Dark Heiress
by sevylicious
Summary: They fear the dark. Not me. They call it evil. What is evil? They say it consumes, controls... No one controls me.. Not anymore. They hate me. I don't care. I'll have my revenge yet. They don't understand. But I'll show them all.. especially him.. SS/OFC
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

"Melantha! Are you listening?" The little girl cringed like she always did whenever anyone called her name, Melantha; how she hated that name.

Unaware, her mother continued, "I do not want to have to go looking for you again, so if you know what's good for you, you'll be waiting in this exact spot when I return! Do I make myself clear, young lady?"

"Yes, Mother." she replied, whole-heartedly wishing she was any where but there in Knockturn Alley. If anything, she knew that this was not a place for five-year olds, least of all ones who were being left alone in creepy alleys where who-knows-what could be lurking, just waiting to pounce out from who-knows-where.

Melantha watched her mother enter Borgin and Burkes, mumbling something about leaving her to the house-elves next time. She couldn't agree more. She would much rather be playing with Flora, their house-elf, then be dragged through endless alleys and shops by her mother.

Melantha stood clutching her stuffed orange hippogriff. She kept whispering words of comfort to it, to be brave, as she would protect them both from any creatures stupid enough to cross her path. Her large dark eyes took in her surroundings; she was wary of the many hags, warlocks and other hooded unidentifiable beings that drifted by, some giving her leering looks as they passed.

"Ah, I have long waited for this moment." Melantha spun around to find herself facing the oldest woman she had ever seen. She was stooped, with a kindly face that was composed of many lines and folds of skin.

The old lady continued, "I sometimes wondered whether it would actually come to pass, but then the sight, it never lies. It is an honour to finally meet you, young Heiress of the Dark."

Melantha stared blankly at the old woman in response.

"But of course, Morgana, you have no idea of what I speak, do you? Dear, dear, it will come to you when you are ready, but you must be strong. I know you have an immense depth of power within you that will bring envy in those around you. Some who wish to harm you, even use you, but you must never let it overpower you; harness it and you will conquer all."

If Melantha was puzzled at the old woman's earlier words, it was in no comparison to how lost she felt now.

"Uh ma'am, I th-think you m-may be mistaken, um, my name- my name is Melantha, n-not Morgana," she stammered.

"Melantha? Child, but that is no name for our Dark Heir--" The old woman was interrupted by a shrill voice.

"Great Lady Cassandra! There you are! I've been looking all over for you, I thought I had lost you there back in the Incense Emporium," came the outburst of a ditzy-looking young girl. She had short straggly hair, large moss-coloured glasses and numerous beads around her neck and wrist.

"Now, now, Sybill, what have I told you before? Mother Cass will do, or even just Gran--" Again she was interrupted by the girl called Sybill.

"Yes, but Great Lady Cassandra, it is of the utmost importance that you are shown the respect you so rightly deserve. Why, we noble Seers have been overlooked for far too long and our sacred gifts ignored by those woefully ignorant and--"

The old woman rolled her eyes in resignation and let out an exasperated sigh before quickly changing the subject, "Look Sybill dear, it's her, the one I've told you about; she who will aid in banishing the impending rise of evil from His onslaught of destruction."

When the old woman saw that she was only drawing a blank look from her companion, she then added, "The Heiress of the Dark, Morgana."

Realising the Knut had finally dropped, she turned back to Melantha who had been watching their banter with undisguised puzzlement, only to hear Sybill comment, "She's a bit puny, isn't she? I mean, what sort of savior hugs a stuffed creature and wears red ribbons in her curls?"

Deciding that they had already driven young Melantha, or rather Morgana (as she truly knew her to be), to the height of confusion, she made to bid her goodbye; she hoped that the wizarding world's young sorceress-in-the-making, would at some level bear her words at heart.

"Well, Morgana my dear, I can only hope for the best for you; just remember to always be strong even in the bleakest of moments. Come along now Sybill, we must get back to air out the drawing room. I daresay you use much too much of those scents. Why, I do believe my sinuses will be the death of me!"

The old woman had already begun to make her way out of the dank alley and into the more reputable and frequented part of London's wizarding town, Diagon Alley.

She had not noticed Sybill lag behind and how she had gone oddly still; she had a distinctly vacant look on her face- which was even more so than usual. When she finally spoke, her voice had taken on a gruff tone, which definitely sounded out of place coming from the mouth of a young girl.

"_Do not lose hope, for the Heiress and her prince will love fiercely. The Heiress will not forget, never; for though the dark prince is lost on the burnt path, their souls forever will be entwined, giving life to either, for neither can live if either does not_."

And as quickly as she had spoken those bizarre words, she had snapped out of her trance without noticing anything out of the ordinary.

"What, oh, um, I suppose I have to go. Right, so good luck defeating evil then. Hey! Great Lady Cassandra! Wait for me!"

And with that, Melantha was once again alone, for all of two minutes when her mother flung herself out of the creepy antique store to grab her arm in vice-like grip. She was unceremoniously dragged along, all the while having to listen to her mother's muttered tirade on having to bother with useless, time-consuming tag-alongs who were better of being someone else's burden.

As the day's somewhat eventful trip to Diagon Alley came to a close, Melantha was certain that St Mungo's was missing two of their permanent in-patients from the ward for those with magic mind maladies; she would not consciously remember the apparently mindless drabble she had heard from the pair for a number of years to come.


	2. Happy Families

**Chapter 1- Happy Families**

"Flora, are you sure this is the dress my mother wanted me to wear? It's so tight I can hardly breathe and it makes me look like some sort of floozy!"

"Yes Young Miss. Her Madam is telling Flora that this is most definitely Young Miss' dress. I is sorry you is not breathing, but I is just doing what is being told to Flora."

Melantha gazed with disgust at the dress that had seemingly been painted on. It was a lurid shade of pink satin strung together with black lace and ribbon, clinging shamelessly to every facet of her lithe sixteen-year-old body. It barely covered her modest chest and hardly reached her thigh. She would be mortified to be seen in such atrocious attire. It amazed her, that for all her family's wealth, her mother had a shocking lack of taste, or class for that matter.

"Tsk, tsk. Such a lovely young lady reduced to looking like one of Knockturn Alley's finest."

"Oh shut up, or you'll soon find yourself a pile of shards to be banished!" she snapped at the mirror which quickly grew quiet. Inwardly, she couldn't help but agree with that annoying mirror, although if her parents weren't so averse to anything relating to muggles in the slightest, she might have had a more pleasantly silent one ages ago.

"Ah, I see you're wearing the dress I picked out for you. Mm, should've probably had it taken in a bit, perhaps have it show just a little more leg, but I suppose it'll have to do." Her mother had just entered the room and was now examining the dress in awe.

"Mother, really, you can't possibly mean for me to wear this- this _monstrosity_!"

"Now listen here, you ungrateful little wretch! I paid good money for that dress. We have very important guests arriving and you **will **do your best to impress them! Mr Malfoy and that charming son of his will be here shortly to discuss a very important, ah, _business_ deal; so you will be dressed and waiting to greet them on their arrival."

"Lucius Malfoy! That prat, _charming_? I hardly think so. Besides, if Father's consorting with the Malfoy's regarding business, what ever does it have to do with me? Why do I have to put up with their insufferable presence?"

Still glaring at the reflection of the offending garment in her mirror, Melantha failed to notice her mother shift uneasily.

Taking the offensive, her mother responded, "Impertinent brat! You will make sure that you exercise some measure of control over that tongue of yours, or I'll be sure to have it permanently removed. I'll not have you embarrassing your father and I simply because you failed to remember your place. Am I understood?"

Melantha rolled her eyes, "Yes Mother." Like she could forget, always keeping up appearances.

"Having said that, I expect you ready and waiting in the entrance hall within the next five minutes to welcome our guests. Oh, and do add some rouge to your face, you're much too pale."

With that, her mother tottered out, most probably to inspect the all ready perfectly-set sitting room.

Stepping away from the mirror, she hastily grabbed her wand from the dresser and pointed it at herself muttering a quick Evanesco. The dress instantly disappeared and she hurriedly made for her armoire.

"Oh, Young Miss, you mustn't!" squealed the mortified house-elf. "Her Madam is going to being very angry with the Young Miss!"

"Flora, I simply cannot wear that horrid dress. I'll deal with Mother if I have to."

"Flora cannot be watching Young Miss disobey her Madam. Young Miss must excuse Flora while she is getting into trouble."

In an instant the house-elf had disappeared. Melantha sighed; she would never understand these creatures.

Aha. Perfect. She had found one of her favourite dresses and the weather was still favourable enough to wear it. She quickly donned the simple white calf-length dress. It fell slightly off the shoulder and was fitted along the bust-line, flowing loosely below. Pulling on a pair of flat black sandals that tied around the ankles, she then ran a brush through her slightly wavy, dark hair, allowing it to fall loosely across her back.

Taking a glance at her appearance in the mirror, Melantha was pleased with her little make-over. Her eyes were drawn to her neck where an ornate necklace sat. It had what she assumed to be a kind of large, oval diamond embedded in it. There was something eerie about it; she knew it had to be enchanted as she was unable to remove it. Her mother always told her that she should be more appreciative of her lovely trinket, and to remember that it did not behove her to ask foolish questions.

Always with the secrets.

She exited her room and made for the stairs not a moment too soon. She could hear what she assumed were the Malfoys being admitted by one of the house-elves.

Descending the stairs to the entrance hall, she could already hear her father and Malfoy Snr engaged in conversation while her mother was apparently preoccupied in fawning over Lucius. She quickly fell into place alongside her mother, hoping that her tardiness would go unnoticed.

However, she was not really concerned with how her mother would feel once she noticed her change in clothes; Melantha knew that she wouldn't dare offer a derogatory comment while in the presence of guests such as the Malfoys.

"Ah, Mrs Par--"

"Now, now Lucius, my dear boy, there's no need for such formalities. Especially when we're practically family, please, do call me Peony."

Her mother's coquettish behaviour was enough to sicken her. It was almost as bad as having to watch that Lucius Malfoy and his repugnant act with her mother.

Admittedly (not that she would, even with a litre of force-fed Veritaserum), he was rather good looking. But the fact that he very well knew so and most certainly flaunted his looks (wealth, charm and ever-chic apparel), she found him meretricious and he utterly disgusted her.

Melantha knew exactly what kind of people the Malfoys, and her own parents, for that matter, were; but there was a sort of tacit understanding that such ideas never be discussed, ever. Which was why she completely understood how her parents could be so complaisant regarding the Malfoys, Blacks, Lestranges, or Notts, or really quite a number of some the old renowned, pureblood families. Phoenixes of a feather and all that.

"Peony it is, my dear Madam. And might I add that you look as lovely as ever."

There it was, his over dosage of charm that he always seemed to ooze, like some cheap aftershave that had been hastily slathered on. Bending to plant a kiss on her out stretched hand, her mother was too preoccupied giggling that high-pitched girlish laugh of hers to notice the slight, almost imperceptible sneer he gave as he addressed her. Melantha, however, did not; she was definitely not fooled by his glamoury.

"Ah, and this most certainly must be the very lovely Melantha."

He leaned in to take her hand and lingered slightly as he placed a kiss on it. She was barely able to contain her cringe, his touch made her skin crawl.

"Well I can definitely tell where your daughter gets her beauty from, Peony. You look not a day older than sixteen yourself, Madam."

The git still hadn't released her hand from his paw. Worse still, was that he was bathing her mother in all of his false adulation and she was simply lapping it up. While she was tall and lean, with pale skin and dark eyes and hair, her mother was by no means a beauty queen. A strawberry blonde (courtesy of the local apothecary) her hair had been spelled into an elaborate beehive. She was a pudgy woman with a pug-like face that was hidden behind mounds of make-up. She was dressed in lurid violet dress robes decked with seemingly the entire family jewels.

Apparently her mother had not taken to the concept of less is more. Her father was no better in the looks department. He was rotund, with brown hair that was thinning and murky, green eyes. Melantha was grateful, for at the very least, whatever had happened to her in the gene pool, she held no great resemblance to her parents.

"My, my, Lucius, you do know how to flatter this lady! Melantha here would be only too lucky to come across a more fine young man,_ wouldn't you Melantha_?" The last bit that was directed to her was nothing short of a snarl.

Reluctant as she was to be a part of this, Melantha knew that it was better to please her mother, even if she wasn't too enthusiastic in doing so, so she bit back the more colourful opinions she had of Lucius and nonchalantly replied, "Yes Mother, of course."

Her mother shot her a sharp look in warning, which translated to, 'mess this up and there will be consequences', what _this _was, she had yet to find out.

"Lucius, why don't you and Melantha take that lovely seat by the window, mm?" Peony motioned towards a love-seat by the window which had a view of the estate grounds.

The pair were seated, and in Melantha's opinion, too close for comfort. Once everyone was settled, Flora appeared with refreshments consisting of the very best chamomile tea, and of course her mother's favourite petit fours (which were in all probability responsible for her expanding waistline), as well as an array of the finest pastries courtesy of Gusty, the estates' French kitchen-elf.

"So tell me, Mortimer, I hear you have had special tutors for Melantha, but what of Hogwarts? I understand that that muggle-loving fool Dumbledore is still in charge; but surely you would not break with tradition for that reason alone, or what say you?"

Abraxas Malfoy. Well there was a lech if she ever saw one and she had certainly not missed that leer he had given her on arrival, or rather she thought she was not meant to. Truly like father like son. She waited for her father to respond to Malfoy Senior, for she had many a time wondered the same, but the reasoning had never been plausible for her liking.

"Abraxas we have been friends for a long time, you should trust that I would not act in foolish haste. My wife and I agreed a long time ago that Melantha--" here he said her name in distaste as he always did. Sure, both her parents could always find some fault with her, but it had always puzzled her as to why her father could so strongly despise her. At times he would be openly hostile with her for seemingly no apparent reason.

"--was deemed for much greater things. For her to truly be of an asset, there were simply things that Hogwarts could never teach her. So we took it upon ourselves to ensure that Melantha was educated in a way that would be best suited to our, _cause_. She has been well schooled in the old magics, the most revered and cherished by our noble kin. It is the stuff that that fool would rather the youth of today never know. Which is such a shame really, but then it is their loss."

Oh, so that's how he described her having to study the dark arts in such depth above all else. Yes, she knew that well, there probably wasn't a dark tome she hadn't been made to read and exact in perfect detail. Even her pureblood fascist parents didn't know half of what she had learnt in her 'special tutoring'.

If anything, she felt as though she was being skilfully trained in the dark arts, that and all the ideals on pureblood supremacy they tried so hard to impress upon her. However, they failed abysmally in the latter as Melantha hated such ways of thinking, but grudgingly knew that airing her unique views, especially in present company would most likely get her killed.

Mortimer continued, "I daresay the girl knows more than our young Lucius here. She is surprisingly skilled and proficient. I do believe that her tutor has mentioned that she has been quite adept at spell casting and even managed to surpass his own skills. I of course had to _let him go_ after that bit of information, but really she somehow managed to exceed all expectations."

While her father tried to sound nonchalant about her, Melantha was quick to pick up on the disdain he actually felt for her every time he spoke of her.

Malfoy Snr responded after a moment of thought, "Mm, you know Mortimer, I am loathe to admit that I actually agree with you. While Lucius is undeniably talented, what with being such a credit to Slytherin as head boy and Quidditch captain, I doubt even he has accomplished as much as you proclaim this young lady has. But then, talk is cheap. However, being the lovely thing that she is, for now, I suppose your word will do. You do realise though, that in due course she will be required to prove some of her many, ah, _talents_?"

"But of course, I am no novice when it comes to dealing with the finer points within the cause. The girl will do what is asked of her, and more if need be." Her father had taken on a dangerous tone as he said the last few words.

Melantha had been observing the exchange between her father and Malfoy Snr intently, she definitely did not like the way the conversation was going, especially as it had all been concerning her. The 'deal' she had been privy to earlier was looking decidedly ominous, and she had a sinking suspicion that the main bargaining chip was closer to home than her liking.

Her mother, who had until now been silently staring at the Malfoy's with something akin to lust and longing in her eyes, decided to speak up, much to her chagrin.

"Melantha, the weather is much too fine for a young pair such as yourselves to be cooped up inside. Why don't you take dear Lucius for a walk around the estate gardens, perhaps you may even find it a welcome opportunity to get better acquainted with one another?"

Ugh. That's all she needed, quality time with Malfoy. Alone. Without the pretence of having to display some form of decorum, she was quite sure that this was the perfect opportunity he and his roving hands needed. She only wondered which and whose wand would be drawn first.

"I believe that would be delightful Madam. Shall we, Melantha?"

Damn him.

The smug bastard had risen and was now smirking at her. She knew better than to decline his proffered arm, however much it irked her. Linking arms, they made their way out the patio. Ignoring the fact that she was supposed to be providing the tour of the gardens, Lucius began to steer them off towards a more secluded area, where the hedges and shrubbery would shield them from prying eyes.

Melantha was beginning to wish she had actually worn that horrid pink dress, at the very least it might have repulsed him enough to refrain from exercising his liberty with her.


	3. Consequences

**Chapter 2- Consequences…  
**

"I thought **I **was supposed to be showing you the grounds? If you'll kindly follow me, perhaps we could visit the stables. They're just over there--"

She made to continue their walk, but was abruptly prevented by an insistent arm that had somehow managed to snake its way around her waist. They had just walked beneath a large, old oak tree, when in one swift move he had managed to maneuver her between the vast girth of the tree's trunk and himself, effectively pinning her.

"Hmm, you don't waste time, do you? Well I'm always up for a romp in the hay," he purred seductively, his face barely an inch from hers.

"What? I-uh, NO! No that's not what I meant. I didn't mean- what are you implying?" she stuttered, realising the innuendo in his words. She looked somewhere between mortified and flustered while managing to flush a remarkable shade of scarlet.

He chuckled at her apparent unease, relishing the way she squirmed beneath his gaze.

"You're quite lovely when you blush. I imagine it extends well past the modest bit of skin you've exposed." He was looking pointedly at her reddened neckline, his gaze slowly raking over her body. With two fingers, he lazily tugged at her sleeve, slowly exposing her shoulder further.

"You really do paint quite a provocative image."

"Lucius, I-I think you're a bit too close." She could smell chamomile lingering on his breath and his shoulder-length hair tickled her cheek every time there was a breeze. Beams of sunlight that were streaming through the overhead leaves glistened in flecks on his silvery-blond hair.

"What, do you mean like this?" He was now impossibly close; he had one arm above her head while his other hand was caressing the back of her neck. His chest was pressed hard against hers and she could feel the rapid beat of his heart, or perhaps it was her own? His thigh was wedged between hers and she could feel his hardness pressing against her leg.

He had begun to nuzzle her neck and her eyes closed seemingly of their own accord_. Okay, that felt rather nice, those lips were amazing; no, no, no, this was wrong, so wrong!_ She knew the kind of person that he was, the things he had probably done. She did not want this, not with him; now if only she could relay that message to the rest of her traitorous body.

_Cease and desist! Cease and desist_! Her body, however, was vehemently protesting and decided at that moment to show how intent it was on proving that it had a mind of its own.

Lucius had now moved to her jaw line, and he was growing more insistent. A second later, he had crushed his mouth onto hers; he forced her mouth open and deftly worked his tongue into her mouth. She seemed to have lost all use of her limbs, or rather forgotten that they were there.

Lucius quickly grew restless and began further exploring her body. He began to grope at her chest and Melantha was quickly jolted into realisation of where this was headed; she felt his other hand glide beneath the hem of her dress and up her leg, only to feel an insistent pull at her knickers.

She jerked her head to the side, before shoving his hands away. "No, Malfoy! Not with you, and not like this."

"Really, Melantha, I believe we have progressed beyond formalities. Personally, I thought we were getting acquainted on a more _pleasurable_, _intimate_ level."

"No, Malfoy. You're sorely mistaken if you'd think I'd want to _know_ _you_ any better. Now, I'd really appreciate it if you'd remove your filthy hands."

"Now, now, why the sudden hostility? I could swear you were enjoying yourself a moment ago; there's no need to deny yourself the pleasure. You know you want me to continue." Dropping his voice to a whisper, he said, "I could make you writhe in all manner of ways. Pleasure. Pain. Ecstasy. The way you'd scream, it would be bliss; every kind of beautiful."

If she was unsure before, the look in his eyes as he spoke told her all she needed to know. _There's no way in hell. Sadistic bastard! No way.  
_

Lucius made to kiss her once more but this time she was not to be swayed. He stopped suddenly when he felt wood on wood; he looked down to see Melantha holding her wand to his manhood.

"Off, Malfoy. Now. Unless you're considering becoming a eunuch, at which point I'd be only too willing to oblige." A slight prod was all the convincing he needed to hastily take a step back.

"There's no point in playing these infantile games. Sooner or later, I will have you, and I'm definitely counting on the former." Lucius had momentarily lost his look of pleasure, but not his conceit.

"Yes, Malfoy, you keep deluding yourself. Whatever helps you sleep at night," she swiftly replied.

"You've got the wrong end of the wand, sweet Melantha. You see, I rather plan on spending many sleepless nights, with you as my favourite bedmate," he haughtily countered, wiping the self-satisfied smirk off her face.

Melantha frowned in puzzlement. _Okay, I thought I had the upper hand here, so why is that damned bastard smirking at me? And what the hell is he talking about?  
_

Noting her ignorant look, Lucius quickly saw the opportunity to take hold of the situation. "Oh, but it seems that you don't know, do you? Why, it's the deal of a lifetime. Our fathers are discussing it as we speak."

"Deal? What does it have to do with me?" she ranted, but was flooded with horror as she suddenly realised the answer.

Smugly, he replied, "Why, you of course; or rather, us. Surely you're not so naïve as to believe we were here for the tea? Or perhaps you thought it was for the _charming_ presence of your _lovely_ mother?" he sneered.

Melantha gazed back in disbelief: this could not be happening. Not Malfoy. She could not, would not end up his whore. She began taking a step backwards in the direction of the house.

"Ah, I see you finally get it; Melantha Malfoy, has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?" he laughed sardonically.

She broke into a run and quickly reached the house, leaving Lucius to watch on in amusement.

"My darling Melantha, feisty little flower, I'll have you yet, I swear it."

Dropping all decorum, Melantha burst into the sitting room looking flustered and disheveled, halting all conversation. Ignoring the looks of outrage on her parents' faces, she angrily spat, "Marriage? To Malfoy?"

Her mother, with her usual façade, ignored her brusque manner and happily replied, "Yes, it's simply wonderful isn't it? I'm so pleased; you're so lucky. We must celebrate! And the planning, why, there's so much to do! Flora! Champagne, chilled." Hardly pausing to draw breath, she continued, "Oh, Lucius, there you are. Congratulations my dear boy, you really do make a fine match!"

Melantha turned to see Lucius standing behind her in the doorway. He had just caught up and was looking as composed and smug as ever, receiving a flute of champagne from the magnum her father had just uncorked.

"Why, thank you, Peony, or should I just call you Mother now?"

_Oh Merlin. That's it. I'm going to be violently ill_.

The conversation and champagne flowed freely around her; she could have been part of the paisley wallpaper behind her, for all the notice that was taken of her.

_Right, enough, this is all a bloody laugh. There is no way I'm marrying Malfoy. _

"No."

"What was that, Melantha darling, did you say something?" asked Lucius innocently.

_Ugh._

"I said, _no_. No, I will not marry Lucius." _Not as if the arrogant bastard had even bothered to actually ask me._

"Melantha! What are you saying? Really, you don't know what you're talking about," her mother chided, sending a nervous smile at Malfoy Senior and a scathing glance at her.

"Abraxas, Lucius, pay the girl no mind. It's all the excitement; I do believe it's overwhelmed her--"

"No, Mother," she interjected as her mother tried to placate the Malfoys. "I know exactly what I'm saying. There's no bloody way I'm marrying _him_." She nodded in Lucius' direction before she continued, "I'd rather be skinned alive and fed to a starving Hungarian Horntail!"

Her father, who had been quiet throughout her tirade, stood to face her with a look of utter outrage upon his face. He was livid, and there was going to be hell to pay.

"You'll soon find that can easily be arranged! How dare you take that tone, and in front of company no less! Hold your tongue! You have insulted our guests long enough, and I will not tolerate such insolence!" Seeing that there was no room left for argument, she stormed out and went up to her room.

Red-faced, her father turned to Malfoy Senior. "My deepest apologies, Abraxas, old friend. Her outburst deeply shames me. Rest assured, she will not go unpunished."

"Quite understandable; the best of families have their black sheep. Best to nip it in the bud, I say."

"She's no black sheep, Abraxas. She merely forgets her place on occasion, quite seldom actually," her mother quickly amended, trying to salvage the situation.

"Dear me, it's clear the poor girl is suffering from nerves; it really is to be expected of one so young. I do believe that, given time, she would be quite agreeable."

Peony felt utterly relieved at upon hearing Lucius' words. _So the wretched girl hadn't bollixed it up completely after all._

She listened intently as Lucius continued, "Well, I do have an idea of sorts; what say we have dear Melantha spend the afternoon at Malfoy Manor? Perhaps give us a chance to bond in an environment that will soon be hers anyway. She may warm up to the idea of marriage easier, if she sees how well we can be together without the added pressure from her parents."

Peony's face lit up as though the proposal to wed such a fine-looking young man was being made for her. _If only._

_Well that damned girl better appreciate her luck; one would imagine that after all the trouble her father and I went through to pair her with such an exquisite young man, the insolent wench would at least show some modicum of gratitude._

Lucius smoothly added, "I mean no offence of course."

"Well, of course not! Lucius, my dear boy, you are a godsend! I think that is an absolutely splendid idea. You'll make a marvelous son!" gushed Peony.

Lucius' grey eyes glittered merrily. _Ah yes, and quite possibly get to have my cake and eat it too._

Melantha awoke to musty darkness, cold and stiff. She was, of course, in the cellar, having expected nothing less. With the previous day's debacle, there was no way she would be allowed to go unscathed; freedom of speech in such a household was not condoned or tolerated.

This was why a night in the cellar, along with a prelude of a dozen of her father's favourite curses to the back, was taken in resignation. It was not the first time she had been on the receiving end of her father's wand, and until she was free from their imprisonment, it would most likely not be the last. It was quite normal for her father to exact his punishment on her in such a manner every time she had been disobedient. It sickened her the way he actually seemed to relish each and every blow.

Her back was proof of his madness; she had procured a number of scars over the years at his hand, and last night had been no different. In fact, it was actually one of the worst. Her back was crusted with dried blood and her dress was effectively stuck to it. It would be torture trying to peel it away, but perhaps she'd just shower with it on, allowing the warm water to soften it before she attempted to remove it.

If her mother wasn't already slave-driving Flora, she could possibly get her to heal her back, as she had done in the past. While she knew the elf wouldn't really sympathize much with her (house-elves fervently believed in punishment), she would still do as she was told.

Melantha wearily began to make her way upstairs to her room when her mother accosted her. _Damn._ She was hoping to escape unnoticed to the relative sanctuary of her room.

"Hmph, I sincerely hope that you've learned your lesson. Your father and I have never been so mortified by your atrocious behaviour."

_Oh, please let this end soon. I really can't deal with this now. I just need a hot bath and warm bed._ Melantha was beginning to lean heavily on the banister for support.

She was brought back to the present as she heard her mother say, "Dear Lucius has been kind enough to overlook yesterday's little episode. You will be joining him for lunch at the Manor, and you **will** be on your best behaviour. Do I make myself clear?"

"What? No, I can't--"

"You will do as you are told!"

"But--"

"No 'buts'. This is not up for further discussion; now go get cleaned up. And stop slouching, it's quite unbecoming for a young lady."

Melantha was left gaping in horror. _Circe, could this day possibly get any worse?_

At twelve thirty, Melantha was promptly waiting in the lavish foyer of Malfoy Manor. All along the walls, portraits of the former Malfoy bloodline stared down their aristocratic noses at her. She couldn't help but notice way the male members were leering at her was in a way that was all too familiar.

"Ah, Melantha, you're right on time. I see you're looking lovely as always," Lucius said as he entered from one of the passages that likely led to the east wing. Though the comment was obviously sarcastic, he managed to keep his voice welcoming.

He was regarding her in amusement; after the previous day's antics, she had opted for a definitely modest look. Actually, she was bordering on nun-ish. In contrast to the previous day, her hair was pulled back into a stern bun at the base of her neck and she wore a black, floor-length dress, which hid her frame; it was buttoned up along the neck and at the wrists of her sleeves, while a heavy traveling-cloak completed her ensemble.

Lucius, however, was unperturbed by her new look. Leaning in, he made to kiss her but was met with her cheek as she quickly averted her face.

Chuckling lightly, he offered his arm, which she reluctantly took. "So, shall we make for the dining-hall then? I believe lunch will be served momentarily."

"Yes, I suppose," she replied in a monotone, hoping to indicate indifference.

"Well, I'm overwhelmed by your enthusiasm," he added with light sarcasm. "This way, if you please."

The smarmy git, he was enjoying himself.

He led her to a high-ceilinged room that was fit for royalty. Being Malfoy Manor, she had expected nothing less; this however, exceeded all expectations, and yet it failed to entice her. The room exuded a coldness that had nothing to do with a lack of heat; it rather seemed to echo the type of inhabitants held within those walls.

It disgusted her to think of how much had been wasted in creating a place of such grandeur. She knew that the Manor was only one of the many abodes owned by the Malfoys; they were known to have property all over Europe. Merlin forbid they were to stay in foreign accommodation while on holiday in the French Riviera.

The dining table was fit to host a banquet. It matched the floor below; it too was made of stark white marble with the exception of the silvery veins that streaked the floor.

Lucius pulled out a high-backed chair for her to the left of the head seat. Seated, she asked, "Will your father not be joining us?" She had noticed that only two places had been set.

The late Athena Malfoy had died during childbirth; with the Malfoy heir born, Malfoy Senior had never felt the need to remarry.

"No, Father unfortunately had more pressing business to attend to. Not to worry, I plan on being a most _attentive_ host."

Melantha cringed inwardly. _Sweet Merlin, that's what I'm afraid of!_

As she was not prepared to encourage Malfoy in any way, the meal passed in near silence with conversation being reduced to monosyllabic replies on Melantha's part. She had the idea that Lucius was trying to loosen her up as he was constantly trying to ply her with wine while he had been sure in slowly taking measured sips. Not wishing to succumb to his advances under the influence, she had promptly switched to water after her first glass and half. There was no way she was going to lose her faculties around him.

Once the meal was through, Malfoy helped her out of her seat and quickly linked arms, much to her chagrin. Taking note of her slight disgruntled frown, he held her closer and more tightly.

"Well, that was not too bad. Since you seem to flourish so well outdoors," he said with a smirk, as he referred to the previous days little tête-à-tête by the oak, "I thought perhaps you might be amenable to a stroll by the lake?"

"I'm sure that would be lovely," she replied with bored sarcasm.

She hated every minute of his forced presence, and there was no way she'd let him think otherwise. This day couldn't end soon enough.

They made their way down to the lake where Lucius insisted they go for a boat ride. It was odd, besides having to avoid his lascivious gaze (which most assuredly was undressing her); she had yet to fend his hands off her.

A painfully slow hour later, and they were forced to head indoors as the darkened skies promised the onset of a magnificent storm.

"Seems as though we're quickly running out of things to do; perhaps a tour then? I'm obliged to entertain and I'm sure we could find something remotely_ interesting_."

Circe, she couldn't handle much more of this! She had barely managed to refrain from impaling him with her fork during lunch and it would have been only too easy aboard the boat to feign an accidental drowning. Smiling, she let her thoughts drift to the scene.

_Poor Lucius had slipped overboard and amid his panicked frenzy was sadly entangled in some weeds; she had tried so hard to help but it was to no avail. It had been heart wrenching watching him sink to the depths of the lake where ravenous creatures would feast on his corpse_…Ah, wishful thinking, if only she were so lucky.

She was wrenched out of her delightful reverie when she felt herself being led away once again._ What did he say? Something about a damn tour._ She hastily said, "Of course, Lucius, why not?"

Another torturous hour and a half later, and her sore feet were being led to yet another room. She couldn't bear to listen to his inane ramblings concerning his great ancestors or the insipid history of Malfoy Manor.

Her head was spinning from all the rooms she had been shown, so it was no wonder that she had failed to notice that they had now entered a large, masculine-looking bedroom.

A large four-poster bed stood raised against the adjacent wall; its mahogany posts were intricately carved and forest green drapes hung from the ceiling to form a canopy over it. To the left were two other doors which probably led to an en-suite bathroom and a dressing room, while overhead a black brocade drapery with the Malfoy crest embroidered in silver was hung up high.

Melantha did not notice any of this, as her attention had been drawn to the large French doors across from her, which led to a large balcony overlooking the lake. Outside, rain was pelting heavily against the windows.

"Ah, and last but not least, are my humble chambers."

"Yes, very nice," she replied nonchalantly as she walked towards the view of the raging storm, failing to notice the odd gleam in his eyes.

Lucius walked to her where she stood, crossed-armed gazing out, while he admired the profile she cut before the windows.

"You're so beautiful, do you know that?" he said as he reached out to push a stray hair off her forehead. Ignoring her flinch, he laid his hands on her forearms and continued, "We could be very good together, quite the couple. Revered and respected by so many; with such power, we'd probably be the centre of envious minds."

Melantha had now turned to face him with a hard gaze, listening to his pompous little speech.

"You'd be hard-pressed to find a better suitor, especially one that would afford you the prestige that the Malfoy name carries. So, do we have an accord?" he finished smugly with that obnoxious smirk on his face.

With a smirk that rivaled his, Melantha jerked herself free from his clutches before taking a step back and countering, "I'm so very flattered that you would consider me a possible candidate to fulfill the role of _your_ _loving wife_. But, you see I rather feel that your ego would have a trying time in dealing with the likes of me. So I'm sure you'll understand my need to _humbly _decline your offer. No need to be so concerned with my lacking a suitor. As you and my parents have so conveniently forgotten, I'm still sixteen, and I'm sure that by the time I do decide to marry, there will be a fair number of _respectable_ suitors for me to choose from."

Lucius had lost his usual smirk and she could see the agitation growing beneath his normally placid demeanor, yet she continued unperturbed, "Besides, I think by now I've given you enough acknowledgment to show you that I am utterly **repulsed **by you. You are the most arrogant, pompous prick I have ever had the misfortune to come across. So please, if you will, do not insult me by insinuating that we could ever have anything in common, let alone share the same name. You do me a great disservice in assuming that I would stoop to binding myself to a shallow person such as yourself. Merlin! I would actually be expected to perform_ wifely _duties! I could be sick merely toying with **that** idea."

Throwing a haughty look his way, she noticed that while his face was once again an impassive mask, there was no mistaking the look of cold fury in his stormy gray eyes, which only seemed to fuel her satisfaction at having gotten under his skin.

"I see. Well then, I take it that that is your final answer?" His voice was hard and cold.

"Excuse me, but have you been listening to a word I've just spoken? Really, Malfoy, I think I have overestimated your intelligence after all. My answer is no- I will not be your wife, paramour or anything which suggests having to spend an agonizing second longer in your presence!" she retorted and abruptly turned to make her exit.

"Well, I'm sorry you feel that way," Lucius replied in a low voice from behind her.

Melantha stopped and turned to tell him that she couldn't care less, only to see a momentary flash of red from the end of a wand, before darkness encompassed her.

Melantha awoke feeling groggy and sore. Her skin was tingling oddly with a faint buzzing beneath her fingertips. There was a weight on top of her that had pinned her to what felt like a bed. The mass on top of her was moving and she could feel her bare skin being groped. The scent of expensive cologne filled her olfactory senses, and as her vision grew more focused, her eyes locked onto a head of white blond hair nuzzling her neck.

"What the--"

"Ah, I see you've finally decided to join me. It would have been so much more fun had you actually participated in our little tête-à-tête. Either way, I hope you've finally learned that a Malfoy _always_ gets what he wants."

Her face began to contort in horror as she realised what had transpired. "Ah- why-you monster! You filthy beast! What have you done to me!" she choked out.

The cool façade that she had so easily managed earlier had swiftly crumbled. She desperately tried to escape from beneath him, vainly attempting to beat him off, but he quickly pinned her arms above her head. His strength and position ensured that she was effectively trapped.

Smirking, he replied, "Now, now, if you really want to know, I suppose I'm always up for a re-enactment. Dark flower; more like _deflowered_."

"Get away! You evil bastard! Get off me, you fucking son of a bitch!" she screamed, before promptly sinking her teeth into his arm.

Lucius let out a howl of pain and backhanded her in retaliation. "You little bitch! I could easily rearrange your pretty, little face for that. You had better hope I don't scar!"

"You'll regret this, Malfoy. I swear I'll make you regret this." Her voice shook and she glared at him with her tear-stained face.

"Somehow, I highly doubt that. And in case you've failed to notice, you're hardly in a position to dole out threats. Now, where were we?"

Melantha gasped in pain as felt herself being violated. It was useless trying to fend him off and her screams, which were being drowned out by the pouring rain, would have gone unnoticed anyway as the Imperturbable Charm had yet to wear off. Lucius was amused by her struggle and seemed encouraged to remind her who was in control.

A while later, Lucius had removed himself from her and had casually begun to dress. Melantha swiftly rolled off the bed only to violently retch at its side.

With his back to her, Lucius carelessly responded, "Really, must you do that? I do have to sleep in here."

Melantha glared at his back in hatred. She saw her clothes lying in a heap at the foot of the bed and quickly reached for them; she spied her once irremovable necklace beneath her bundle of clothes and for a moment she was tempted to just leave it, but grabbed it as an afterthought.

Not wasting time in trying to fit the dress with all those buttons, she hastily pulled her robe over her bare body and ran out the room with the rest of her garments held in a bundle to her stomach. All she cared about now was getting as far away as possible from that poor excuse of a human. She could hear his laughter mocking her as it echoed through the hallway.

It seemed as though she had run a marathon by the time she had reached the Apparition point at the end of the gravel path. With a fleetingly glance at the place where she had been robbed of her virtue, she Apparated home, leaving a smirking Lucius Malfoy gazing out of one of the top windows.

**A/N: Thanks to my betas brcctexas, lavieboheme and mudbloodproud.**

**To all my readers, please keep reveiwing!**


	4. And then some

**Chapter 3- …and then some**

Melantha Apparated into the entrance hall drenched, cold and humiliated. She couldn't believe what had happened, that she had allowed herself to fall into a situation where she could be utterly taken advantage of.

She made her way to her room ignoring the house elf that tried to attend to her. As she entered her room she sunk to the floor in a state of disbelief. So caught up in trying to comprehend the afternoon's events, Melantha failed to hear her mother approaching.

"You're back; you could have at least announced your arrival. So how did it go? Did you make a good impress--" Her mother stopped speaking abruptly as she took in her disheveled appearance on the floor.

"You're an absolute mess. Please tell me Lucius did not see you in such a state! What- what is that on your neck? And for Merlin's sake why are you so scantily clad?" The tell tale signs of bruising from a love bite were visible at the base of her neck and her bra strap was protruding from the discarded pile of clothing on the floor.

Melantha lifted a sullen gaze towards her mother. "Lucius, that filthy pig, had his repulsive hands all over me and he-he forced himself…" Melantha broke off, unable to continue.

"No, it's not true, Lucius is beyond reproach! He would never commit such a disgraceful act- you! This is entirely your fault! You've gone and shamed yourself and this family too! No self-respecting wizard could ever have interest in broken goods! You've ensured that all our ties to a noble family like the Malfoys have been severed. Just wait until your father gets home. I cannot believe you would be so foolish, behaving like a common slag, you couldn't manage to keep your legs closed for one afternoon!"

Her irate mother stormed off after her little diatribe, leaving an incredulous Melantha glaring at the doorway that had just been vacated.

That woman! That bloody woman was supposed to be her mother, and all she was concerned about was how she had apparently sullied their name. She had long gotten over hoping that Peony would be able to portray some semblance of being a mother, but this, this was unbelievable. She didn't want to even imagine how her father was going to react.

She was nothing but a pawn to these people, but no more. She had had enough. Anything would be better than this; no one deserved to live this way and she ending it once and for all.

Her mind resolved, Melantha hurriedly made her way to her shower trying to ignore the protests of agony from her body. She allowed the warm water to run over her body trying, to wash the lingering feel Lucius had imprinted on it. She watched a stream of red flow down her legs and down the drain until the water ran clear, before furiously beginning to scrub at her skin. When she was through, her normally pale skin was glowing red, with her fingertips and inner thighs scrubbed raw.

Within minutes she was somberly dressed and had pulled on a traveling cloak. She picked up her necklace from the floor and stashed it within her cloak. Taking a final glance around her room, her gaze fell on the desk before the window. It was scattered with numerous drawings she had done. It was one of her favourite pastimes, sitting outside and trying to capture a bit of the scenery in a hastily drawn sketch or sometimes a piece painted to perfection.

She shrunk a few of her favourite pieces of art and slipped them inside her cloak. It was all she had decided to take with her; she would make it on her own as far as possible.

Melantha knew that there was no turning back. From this moment on she was on her own and the only one she could depend on was herself. She had Apparated into the middle of Diagon Alley with a hastily formulated plan.

With her necklace now being her only item of value (apart from her old wand, which she would not part with under any circumstances), she determinedly made her way towards Gringotts.

With a haughty air the likes of which would have made even her mother proud, she strode up the large marble steps into the wizarding bank. Having just stepped up to the front desk, she was promptly attended to by one of the bank's goblins.

"How may I be of assistance?" The goblin bared his sharp pointy teeth in what Melantha could only assume was meant to be a smile.

"I have reason to possibly be in need of a Gringotts account," she said in her most level, self-assured sounding tone. "You see, I have a family heirloom that may be better off in one of your vaults, but I'm a little wary of its value."

"Perhaps if I were to see the piece I could better advise you," he replied.

Melantha quickly withdrew the necklace from her cloak, which she then handed to the goblin.

Turning it over in his hands, the goblin closely scrutinized the necklace before saying, "The work on this could only be elven. It has even been wrought from elf-mined steel," pointing to the diamond, which she now noticed was perfectly clear, he continued, "and this, is a Concealment Crystal. This necklace is used to suppress the magical power of its wearer and drain the excess magic into the crystal where it is stored. The witch or wizard who places this necklace on their _victim_ enchants it so that the wearer cannot remove it. The magic in the crystal can be later harvested and used to increase another's power."

Melantha was unable to disguise the look of utter shock and revulsion on her face and was momentarily left speechless.

Unperturbed by her reaction, the goblin continued, "As for the value, while not unheard of, _enslavement_ artifacts are not all that popular. Its worth is around nine hundred Galleons, if you're lucky, and then only if you manage to find someone interested in such lucrative sales," he ended with a condescending smirk.

Feeling her ire rise, she snatched the necklace out of his hands.

"Some family heirloom."

Melantha sent a withering glare at the snickering goblin and stormed out. She had only one option, and that lay in Knockturn Alley.

"What! That's sheer robbery!" Melantha yelled at the old proprietor in indignation.

Knowing that what she owned was in all likelihood a dark artifact, she had gone to the only place she that she knew where such goods were exchanged: Borgin and Burkes.

She hadn't really expected to receive any generosity from either of the niggardly old proprietors, but this was simply ludicrous!

"I beg your pardon Mr. Burke," she began forcefully, "but I know for a fact that this piece is worth at least nine hundred Galleons!"

"Perhaps, but then given the rather _precarious _nature of this particular piece, I doubt you'd find many who would be as amenable as I to so graciously take it off your hands," came the smug reply.

After so many years as one of the proprietors to the infamous antique shop, it was second nature to spot the desperate ones, and therefore quite easy to hold them in the palm of his hand.

"Graciously! Why you spiteful old--"

The old proprietor had seen the fury growing steadily in her dark eyes. He had begun to grow extremely uncomfortable and the feel of magic was tangible in the air around them. Deciding that it was in his best interests to draw their meeting to a close, he hastily interrupted her, "One hundred Galleons miss, it is my final offer. You are of course, free to take your business elsewhere if you feel my terms are not to your liking."

Seething, she replied through clenched teeth, "Fine, it'll do."

They completed their transaction with the old proprietor smugly offering, "Please do come again, I am always willing to do such _satisfactory_ business."

Melantha replied with disdain, "Yes, your kindness astounds me," her words dripping with sarcasm.

She stashed the small bag of coins into her cloak, and left the old misers shop highly disgruntled. She could feel her magic bristling beneath her skin waiting to lash out. The door to the shop banged shut seemingly of its own accord, to rattle on its hinges.

She had only ventured a few steps, trying to decide her next plan of action when she felt her body go rigid._ Oh no. This is not happening._ She had felt this way before, perhaps too often. It was one of his favourite ways of meting out her punishments.

She felt herself being levitated behind a large figure that seemed to be leading them within the depths of a dark alley that was devoid of any other beings. She was helpless with no apparent chance of being saved. Her earlier anger and bravado had deserted her, and she was left feeling small and scared as she always had when she was rendered helpless like this.

She was suddenly thrown painfully against the wall. Her rigid body rolled over and were it not for the fact that her face, like the rest of her, was frozen, she may have been able to express the turmoil she felt.

The large figure that was now looming over her, gazed at with obvious disgust, its features contorted in rage. "Finally, you're in the gutter where you belong. I can't believe I actually put up with you for so long. You've been nothing but a worthless burden. You've ruined all my plans."

A well-aimed kick to her middle and Melantha was in agony as she felt her rib break. Her eyes began to water, the only evidence that she had felt anything.

Grabbing her by the hair, he pulled her up as he growled menacingly in her ear, "You're a filthy little bitch who has brought nothing but disgrace to my name." Releasing her, he let her fall to the rubbish strewn ground.

A moment later she heard the word that she had been dreading, "_Crucio!"_

Her body was on fire. It felt as though a million hot knives were instantaneously piercing her body, while lava flowed through her veins. She had been in silent agony for a full minute before she was released from her petrified state. She let out a scream that seemed to bounce off the alley walls in an echo.

Half a block away, a tall, thin figure, having finally managed to venture on his own, heard the unmistakable sound of a scream. While frequent patrons of the notorious Knockturn Alley knew better than to pay heed to affairs not their own, this young man did not, or rather allowed his morbid curiosity to get the better of him. Following the sound of the echo, he eventually found himself at the entrance of a filthy, dead-ended alley.

Keeping to the shadows, he hunched low behind a pile of garbage when he saw a broad figure aiming its wand at a mound on the floor. His precarious position did not afford him both a clear view and cover, so he was unable to see who or what it was on the receiving end of the figure's wand.

He was glad that he had worn his usual black robes, which, in combination with his long black hair that hung loosely in his face, he was able to blend into the shadows with ease.

The large figure began to speak, "Good, wasn't it? I hope you enjoyed it. That was just a warm-up compared to what I have in store." This time, he placed a hard kick to her stomach. Melantha began to cough and sputter. She was clutching her ribs and stomach, and had crawled into a fetal position.

Vainly trying to quell her assault, Melantha began to plead, "I'm sorry, please just let me go, I'll stay away, Father--" She never managed to complete her sentence as she was grabbed by the throat and forcefully thrust against the wall. She could feel a warm trickle running down her neck as her head made contact with the wall.

Tightening his grip around her neck, her attacker snarled, "Don't. Call. Me. Father. You are no daughter of mine. You're a despicable little whore that isn't fit to lick the scum from my boots!"

_What!_ The skulking figure began to grow agitated. He knew only too well what it was like to be on the receiving end of such confrontations.

Her hair, which had fallen over her face, obscured it from view. She began to gasp for air and was roughly flung to the floor in response.

She couldn't take it any more; at this rate she would be dead within minutes. She began to reach for her wand but was knocked back with a Disarming spell. Her movement had not gone unnoticed, with the result that she was now unarmed and was completely at the non-existent mercy of her father. He picked up the offending wand and obliterated it with a flick of his own.

"You dare try to pull your wand on me? You insolent wretch!" He brought the heel of his foot down hard on one of her hands, efficiently breaking a few of her slender-boned fingers.

"Aagh! You fucking bastard!" she retaliated.

If death was her imminent journey, then she was paying for her ticket kicking and screaming, and pissing off her father as much as possible.

She continued her verbal assault, "You're nothing but a weak son of a bitch! I hate you, you disgusting prick!"

Her tirade was abruptly halted by another turn of the Cruciatus Curse as she writhed on the floor and screamed in agony, striking the young observer to the core. He had been amazed to hear the girl stand up to her father, her tormentor; especially after all she had endured. He was now horrified to hear her scream and see her in such obvious anguish.

"That'll teach you to keep your filthy mouth shut. You never did know when to hold your fucking tongue."

"Fuck you!" she spat.

"I'm through playing games with you. This ends now. You can rot in the filth where you've always belonged. I wipe my hands of you Melantha, I revoke my noble name. Henceforth, let it be known that you are no kin of mine." He ended with a parting kick to her hip that caused her to whimper.

_Melantha. The girl's name is Melantha._ He could stand it no longer. If he didn't do something right now, he would witness her die. He would feel somewhat responsible, ridiculous as that might have been.

Melantha was laying facedown, resigned to her inevitable death. At least in this position she wouldn't have his face as the last thing she saw before kicking it. Granted, the floor wasn't very appealing, but it was a damn sight better than having to look at his miserable mug.

She was too weak to offer resistance, and she was struggling to remain conscious, but perhaps with death imminent it didn't really matter anyway… maybe she would just drift of and simply never wake.

She heard him begin what would soon be her end, "_Avada Ke_--" when a movement at the entrance of the alley halted her father and interrupted his completion of the curse.

Trusting that she would most likely die with or without his completing the curse, he quickly disapparated. It would do no good to be found in such a compromising situation. Azkaban was not worth the pleasure of personally watching her die.

He had heard the loud crack and seen the man disappear, but had waited a further five minutes before approaching the injured girl. She wasn't moving and her hair was matted with blood. He carefully prodded her arm eliciting a low groan in response. _Good, she's still alive._

He turned her slightly to her side. It was difficult to see her face clearly as her matted hair was stuck to her face. The little of her face that was exposed, was either smeared with dirt or blood, or distorted due to its bruised and swollen state. He was tempted to use his wand but it wouldn't do to alert the Ministry to his presence at a crime scene. His Slytherin instinct reminded him of self-preservation above all else. An underage wizard, unaccompanied in a notorious part of town, would be hard to explain.

Resolved, he hastily reached into his robes to pull out two vials of potion. He had enough experience to ensure that he always carried the necessary healing potions on him.

Melantha was in pain. So much pain, she couldn't tell where it began and where it ended, if it did at all. The cold dampness from the floor only seemed to exacerbate her situation as it seeped in. She was unaware of the figure crouching over her still form until she heard a low soothing voice in her ear, which seemed to be a great distance away, say, "Drink these, the first will help with the bleeding, the other is a strong healing draught, it'll- it'll help with everything else."

Melantha whimpered in response. Someone was there; they were trying to help, but whom? Knockturn Alley patrons were not known to bat an eyelid where others were concerned.

She tried to roll over, to open her eyes, but the pain, the pain was unbearable and she was too weak to do anything but moan pitifully, before the darkness that was threatening finally claimed her.

She had stopped moving and he was unable get any other responses from her. He could feel the swells of panic twisting in his gut: she was going to die after all, but he knew he had to try. Without wasting another second he deftly uncorked the first vial and poured a meager trickle down her throat before doing the same with the other potion. It would be senseless to empty both vials down her throat only to have her choke to death.

He set the remainder of the potion next to her as he gazed tentatively at her. It wasn't working! He had waited too long- but then, after a minute, she seemed to be breathing somewhat easier.

Right, now that he was certain the potion was taking effect he could take his leave with a clear conscience, especially before he was somehow implicated. Rising from his crouched position, he had just turned when an annoyed voice rang out, "There you are! Do you realize how long I've been searching for you? I've had to use two locator spells already, only to find you here of all places."

To his chagrin, the voice was clearly not finished in its chastisement. "What were you thinking? You know how your father feels about us spending too much time here."

Gazing at the face that, in its pallor, was not dissimilar to his own, he replied trying to sound nonchalant, "Well, I suppose if you're in such a rush to return to _that_, by all means let's go. Wouldn't dare dream of displeasing him. Merlin forbid we were to shatter his esteemed view of us!" he stated with well-practiced sarcasm rolling of his tongue.

A pair of black eyes bore into a younger identical pair in annoyance. "Do **not** speak about your father that way! You know he cannot help the way he is; it is really not his fault. You should not provoke him so."

"Funny, I never knew 'deranged Muggle' was a diagnosable condition," he retorted under his breath. However it was not quietly enough as his mother had grabbed his arm harder than necessary as she pulled him to Apparate home. He afforded a fleeting perfunctory glance at the girl in the alley, before his surroundings disappeared.

With another loud 'crack', the alley was deserted, save a single tortured soul who was slowly fighting to regain consciousness and awake to a new beginning.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks to my betas lavieboheme, brcctexas and mudbloodproud. Please keep reading and reviewing!**


	5. A New Beginning

Chapter 4- A New Beginning

**Chapter 4- A New Beginning**

I am not dreaming

Of a hope-victory-life.

I am just dreaming

Of a hope-survival-life.

Yesterday my need was world-conquest.

I failed.

Today my need is my own survival.

I am failing.

Tomorrow my need will be a surrendered life.

I shall fail.

_Survival poem_

_-Sri Chinmoy_

* * *

Right, so when exactly was this great new journey supposed to begin? If this was the afterlife, there was not much different from the hell she had just left. Odd, if she didn't know any better, she would have guessed that she was in the same position that should have been her last. She ached all over and her bones were throbbing. Inhaling deeply, she instantly wished she hadn't as the overwhelming scent of filth and decay invaded her senses, causing her to gag. Slowly opening her eyes, she saw the dank alley that she had been assaulted in. The air was frigid and the sky was light. Realising that she had spent the night in the dirty alley, Melantha slowly sat up to lean against the wall; her head threatened to explode and her body protested against the slight movement.

_What had happened?_ she thought groggily. She was supposed to be dead and yet for some reason, here she was, decidedly worse for wear, but none the less very much alive. Staring at her outstretched legs, she watched in disgust as a cockroach scuttled over her legs and past some glass vials.

_The potions_, she remembered as her mind was suddenly flooded with the events prior to her losing consciousness. There was a voice that told her about the potions which would help her. She ran her tongue tentatively over her lips and could taste the faint traces of the healing draught. Someone had saved her. Someone had given her another go at life, had placed her in their debt and she would never know who. Deciding that it would not do to dwell on such thoughts while in her current state, she reached out for the closest vial and nearly cried out when she felt the agony in her still broken fingers. Silently chastising herself for being so stupid, she reached over with her other hand and brought the vial to her mouth. Using her teeth to uncork it, she emptied the contents down her throat, hoping that it would not only improve her condition, but also remove the cottony feel from her mouth.

She rested her head against the wall and closed her eyes to allow the dizzy feeling in her head to dissipate. A few minutes later, she opened her eyes again more level headed and optimistic about surviving the rest of the day. She hastily downed the second vial containing the healing draught and waited a few minutes for the potion to take effect. She felt her headache disappear while the more insistent stabs of pain in other parts of her body reduced to a manageable level. Looking down at her broken hand, she noticed that her fingers looked decidedly crooked; flexing it, she realised that while her fingers were somewhat stiff, the pain had gone.

Knowing that she would survive relatively pain-free regardless of her less-than-perfect hand, Melantha stood up trying to relieve the lingering stiffness in her limbs. Surmising it was mid-morning, Melantha tried to decide on a course of action. She had limited funds, no accommodation and was now wandless. A night spent in the grimy alley had not helped much either, as its rancid smell clung to her cloak. Running her hand through her hair, she found her fingers entangled in a matted mass of hair, dirt and dried blood. She was in desperate need of a shower and her stomach was demanding attention. Thinking she had spent more than enough time in Knockturn Alley, she made her way into the busier Diagon Alley.

Having never been allowed to frequent the wizarding town, she was amazed to see the number of people bustling about. The street was packed and Melantha realised that her appearance was garnering more than a few stares. Mentally slapping herself for not thinking of it sooner, she pulled the hood of her cloak over her head to cover her bloodstained face. Once she reached a pub that was crowded with people and she knew that this was the right place. Entering the busy pub, she surreptitiously made her way through the noisy crowd and slipped into the lavatory at the back unnoticed. Locking the door, she was grateful that she hadn't needed to wait in line to use the facilities, as her appearance was shocking at best.

"Sweet Merlin! What trod on you, dearie?" Grinding her teeth, Melantha fought the urge to retort at the mirror. She had to concede, she looked ghastly. Therefore, instead of arguing with pieces of the lavatory, she began to make herself somewhat recognisable and fit to appear in public. The small washroom was not equipped with facilities for a full shower, so Melantha settled for a light wash of whatever part of herself she could fit into the porcelain basin.

Squeezing out her hair, she let it hang loose in a bid to hide the bruises on her face that had yet to disappear. While she had managed to clean herself as best as possible, she had been unable to remove the stench and filth ingrained in her cloak. Without her wand to cast a Scourgify, she could only carry it on her arm with the hope that the offensive smelling garment would not attract too much attention.

Stepping out of the lavatory, she noticed the disgruntled looks on the faces of witches that had now formed a queue to make use of the facilities. Strolling by nonchalantly, she stopped abruptly when she overheard the harassed voice of the barkeep, "Milly!"

"Yes, Master Tom?" panted a weary-sounding house-elf.

"Milly, where is Jim? This place is utter chaos! The Floo brings more customers by the minute and the kitchen is struggling to keep up. What are the other elves doing?"

"Master Tom, Mister Jim is having to leave; Mister Jim is saying he is having to look after his sick old mam. Other elves are being busy with hungry customers. Milly also servin' customers."

"When I get my hands on that boy…" The old barkeep's usually pleasant demeanour was beginning to falter with frustration.

"How am I supposed to run this joint without my staff? That boy very well knows this be our busiest time of year. What am I--"

Seeing an opportunity, Melantha quickly interrupted as if on cue, "Sir, Mr. Tom, perhaps I could be of assistance."

"Tom, jus' Tom, lass. But right now I'm in a bit of a rush, so if ye'll kindly just take to the queue--"

Jumping to the point, she swiftly stated, "I need a job." The old barkeep looked somewhat taken aback at this. In the mean time, Melantha, deciding that she had nothing to lose, continued before he could respond, "and a place to stay; I'll work hard and I'll do whatever is necessary."

Giving her an appraising glance, he took in her earnest appearance before he replied, "Well, it doesn't look as if as if I have much of a choice, what with the likes of this crowd probably lasting the whole week. Fine, you start now and I'll be payin' ye ten Galleons a week. Any tips are ye own, now let's go­­."

Hoping to make the most of her situation, she interjected, "Fifteen Galleons, with meals."

The crowds were growing larger and rowdier, so he quickly amended, "Twelve, with meals twice a day; it's the best I can do lass."

Realising that she did not have infinite prospects, she replied, "Done. Where should I start?"

Sparing her a toothless grin, he said, "Milly, take that cloak to Jim's old room and get the lass an apron. Missy, you can take them orders and serve. Mind you don't use any magic; with this kind of crowd we can't be havin' no accidents."

The elf grimaced for a moment as she took the cloak and disappeared. A second later, she appeared with a crisp, white apron, which she hastily tied around Melantha's waist.

"Yes sir, of course," she replied to a barkeep that had already skittered off to a group of boys, intent on helping themselves to drinks from behind the counter.

* * *

Melantha spent most of the day working her way between the crowds as she carried out orders of food and drink. Her badly repaired hand made serving difficult, but she was careful not to drop anything lest she be fired only a few hours into her new job.

By ten that evening, the crowd had eventually dwindled and Melantha could finally rest her aching feet. She had never done so much manual labour in her life; her family's elves had always catered to her every whim. No, it would not help to think that way anymore. This was the way her new life was going to be and she had to get used to it, and soon. She did not have a family and as she was now on her own; her survival depended on her working.

Seated at the large, scrubbed table in the pub's kitchen, Melantha began to eat a bowl of stew with fervour. It had been on the day's menu and she was relishing it. Since her last meal had been over twenty-four hours ago (the disastrous lunch at Malfoy Manor), she was ravenous. Serving and watching others eat the whole day had been torture. She was mid-way through her meal, popping a piece of stew-covered bread into her mouth, when the old barkeep strode in to take a seat across from her.

"Busy day, not always like this though. This week just happens to be the last of the holidays before ol' Hogwarts opens on the first. T'is the same every year: last minute shopping for supplies, hordes of students meeting to enjoy the last of the holidays."

"Mm-hmm." Melantha was listening with only half an ear and offered an occasional nod to feign interest. Right now, her only concern was filling the void in her mid-section.

Noticing how fast she had devoured her food and that she was now slowly cleaning up any traces of the stew with a piece of bread, he nodded imperceptibly at Milly who had been clearing up. The elf swiftly refilled the bowl with steaming stew. Melantha gratefully continued to eat after a muffled word of thanks.

Giving her a chance to finish her meal, the barkeep continued, "You worked very well today, couldn't tell it was your first time. It's a stroke of luck that we got you to replace that Jim at such a busy time. That lazy boy never worked as well as you by half; we're good to be rid of the louse. It's a wonder a fine young lass such as yourself would want to spend all their time working for a codgy, old barkeep. Don't get me wrong, we're mighty glad to have ye."

Melantha swallowed her last mouthful, taking a moment to ponder the question that had been implied, before she replied, "Well, no, I don't suppose I plan on working in a bar forever, but right now I do really need this job, I--"

Seeing the look of worry that flitted across her face, he hastily said, "No Missy, please, I'm not firing ye. Ye have the job for as long as ye be needing it. I jus' thought ye might've had some other plans, perhaps with finishing school somewhere in time."

For the moment, she was relieved that she was not going to be on the streets again. Truth be told, she had no future plans other than to try to survive each day as it came. Everything had happened so fast that she had not given much thought of a contingency.

When no immediate response came from the young girl, he continued, "I'm guessing ye'd be in sixth, maybe seventh year? Judging by the way ye worked today, I'd say ye were a fine Hufflepuff such as meself." There was a touch of pride as he spoke about his former House.

She knew of the legendary Hogwarts and its four houses that were named after each of the school's founders. The only house that was apparently worth being associated with was the noble house of Salazar Slytherin; or so she had been told. Considering it had been her parents and their friends who had thought this, she was rather inclined to believe the contrary.

"Well, the thing is, I was tutored at home, so I don't attend Hogwarts. Right now, I don't think that really is an option."

"Very well, if you're done, then Milly will be showin' ye to ye room. We need to get an early start to deal with tomorrow's rush. It'll probably be even worse than today."

"Milly. Please show… well I don't think you've mentioned…" he trailed off, realising he did not know her name.

"Oh, of course, I should have said before," she replied somewhat embarrassed before continuing, "My name is Me-Morgana." She had suddenly realised that it would not be in her best interests to broadcast her true identity in case of an encore to her previous episode in the alley. For some obscure reason, Morgana had been the first alias to pop into her head. She felt surprisingly comfortable using the name; it seemed unexpectedly to suit her better than Melantha, a name she had always loathed. She did, however, seem to think that there was something more to it, something in the recesses of her memory told her so, but then perhaps a name was just a name...

The barkeep regarded her closely. He noticed her little lapse but chose not to press the issue. Although she had tried to hide it, he had seen the bruising on her face and the way she walked stiffly.

"Yes, well, good-night then, Morgana."

"Good-night, Tom, and thank you."

Melantha rose and an elf swiftly took her empty bowl. She followed Milly out and down the passage past the lavatory that she had made use of earlier; they reached a door at the end of the passage that she had failed to notice earlier. She was then led through the door and into another passage off to the left, taking note of a stairway that was on the right.

Seeing her inquisitive look towards the stairs, the house-elf said, "Stairs lead to guest rooms and roof. Elves look after guests and rooms, but Miss can see roof if she likes; Master Tom likes to rest on roof. Roof has very nice view of the Alley and sometimes even Milly is enjoying seeing everything and being in fresh air. Roof is Milly's favourite place in the Cauldron, maybe sometime Milly will show Miss Morg. "

"Thank you, Milly. Um, my room?"

"Beggin' your pardon, Miss. Master Tom is telling Milly Miss Morg' is to have Mr Jim's room. Mr Jim is being very lazy, Milly is glad Miss Morg' is workin' here. Milly sees how well Miss Morg' works. Milly has cleaned Miss Morg's room for Miss; last door on right. Milly make sure Miss Morg' is up nice and early."

Melantha was amazed to hear the animated nattering of the little house-elf; certainly, no elf in her former household was ever permitted to speak in such a candid fashion. Melantha decided that she liked the elf immensely.

"Thank you Milly."

"Miss Morg' is most welcome. Milly is seeing Miss in the morning." The elf handed her a large brass key before disappearing. Melantha unlocked the door and stepped into the room, muttering a quick Lumos, which sent the wall sconces blazing.

Melantha had always loathed the darkness from an early age, a fear her father had wasted no time in exploiting. Whenever she had been punished, it had been a cold and dark cellar that awaited her. Therefore, as a young girl, she had been quick to learn the spell that would relieve her of the darkness. While most parents would have been proud of such an accomplishment by their young offspring, her parents were not. Her father had been livid that she had managed to best him.

She closed the door and took in her surroundings: The room was small and sparsely furnished. There was a single bed in the opposite corner with a small bedside table. Above the bed was a high-set window where a sliver of moonlight shone through. Gazing out, Melantha could tell that it would be full moon in a few days time.

On the right was a small hearth; Melantha kneeled before it and held her open palm to it. Concentrating, she said, "_Incendio_." A small flame jumped from the pile of wood and it began to burn. It had been a while since she had attempted wandless magic as she had always relied heavily on her wand; it had always been easier than bothering with wandless. Since there was no telling when she would be able to get a new wand, she was going to have to rely on her natural ability and sharpen her skills while she was at it.

At the end of the room, to her right, was a closed door; while to her immediate left was a small wardrobe; she pulled open the single door and saw that it was not empty. Her travelling cloak hung, freshly laundered, next to a wizard's robe. The robe, while definitely not new, was in good enough condition to use. Without an unlimited supply of gold, she would have to make do with whatever came her way. Moving aside the two garments, she found a grey wizard's shirt that was more worn than the robe. _Well, suppose it will do_, she thought before grabbing it. She closed the door and dumped the shirt on the bed as she headed to what she hoped was a bathroom.

She walked through the door at the end of the room into a small shower-room. Fitted with the basic necessities, she noted that while it was not five-wand accommodation, it was at least clean. Tired and aching after a long day's work, Melantha decided on a hot shower before heading to bed.

Quickly stripping out of her grubby robe, she stepped into the small cubicle and turned on the hot spray, allowing the warmth to soak in and soothe her stiff, sore body.

Things were finally looking up; she had a job and a place to stay, but best of all, she was on her own, free at last. Yes, everything was okay… She was okay.

Maybe if she kept telling herself that comforting little lie, then maybe, just maybe she might actually start believing it. Melantha slid to the floor as she was overcome by gut-wrenching sobs. Nothing was okay, and _she_ was not okay. So much had happened; how the hell was she going to survive? How could things have gotten so bad? And Lucius, that utter pig, how could he have done that to her? Her life had never been normal, had never had warm unconditional love flowing freely around her, but she had never imagined that her own family could harbour such hatred towards her; that her own father would rather see her dead by his own wand than have her living outside of his control.

It would be only too easy to just end it all; no, she could not give them the satisfaction she knew her death would bring. She could not let them win after she had been given a second chance. Someone had wanted her to live and although she may never know who that person was, she was in their debt and it meant something to her; she could not take it lightly by simply ending her life. She would take control of her life.

_Her life_. She would live, she would make her life her own, and have the small consolation that doing so would spite her father.

With a new sense of resolution, Melantha stood up and began to wash herself with the little bar of soap left by the house-elves. She worked a lather into her hair and grimaced; it would be a while before she could treat herself to luxuries such as a foaming hair potion.

Sighing, she rinsed herself off and wrapped herself in the thin, rough towel that hung behind the door. She hastily stepped into the room that had grown warm and cozy from the fire. She stood before the hearth and began to dry off. She reached for the old shirt that she had left on the bed earlier and looked at it in distaste. She closed her eyes and envisioned a plain nightdress. Feeling the garment grow warm in her hands, she opened her eyes to find a knee-length nightdress that resembled the one she had envisioned. It was no couture, but it would do. She slipped on the garment and sat herself on the now warm floor before the fire as she waited for her damp hair to dry.

Once her hair was sufficiently dry, she climbed into bed, noticing that the contents of her travelling cloak had been deposited on the bedside table; her drawings were in a neat heap while her small pouch of gold sat atop it.

"_Nox_." The torches went out and the room was basked in an orange glow from the fire, while flecks of silver danced across her face, courtesy of the waxing moon.

It would never compare to the comfort of her old room, but it was better than camping out in a putrid alley. She was warm and safe, and for now, that was all that mattered.

Melantha, no Morgana, closed her eyes and hoped she was not lying when she told herself everything was now going to be okay.

_Hmm, tutored, she says?_ _Well there's not many that choose to besides a few of them aristocratic pureblood families. Whether Hogwarts is an option or not, I suppose we'll jus' have to see about that., _thought the old barman as he sat eating his own late dinner.

"Pippin, get me a quill and parchment; and get Gertrude in for me, she's got a bit of flight. The fresh Highland air should do her some good."

"Right away Master Tom," replied the house-elf.

* * *

Groaning, Melantha pulled the covers over her head hoping the insistent nudging to her shoulder would go away.

"Too early Flora, I'll do my lessons later," she whined.

"Flora? Lessons? Is Milly, Miss Morg'. You is wakin' up now if Miss Morg' is wantin' breakfast. Milly is cleanin' Miss' clothes, so Miss is dressin' and comin' to eat; we is starting early in The Cauldron," squeaked the house-elf in her too-high-pitched-for-the-morning voice.

_The Leaky Cauldron_, she remembered. Yes, she was no longer at home; or rather, this was her new home now. In retrospect, she never really had a home to begin with; she had always been nothing more than a prisoner in a fancy cage.

"Morning Milly; I'm up, I'm up, you can stop poking me now." Pulling down the covers, she rolled out of bed, hissing as her bare feet hit the cold floor. She hastily slipped on the black loafers that she was wearing when she left home. She made her way to the bathroom and sluggishly performed her morning ablutions. She made a mental note to get an oral-cleansing potion; she knew there was a mouth-cleansing charm, but any charm falling remotely into the domestic category was beyond her. A well bred witch of noble bloodline need never raise her wand to perform any menial tasks. What were house-elves for?

When she returned to the room, Milly had already left and her now clean robes were on the bed. She picked them up and regarded them for a moment before making her way to the wardrobe. Without an endless variety of garments, such as she'd had before, her only robe would see some serious wear-and-tear if she were to wear it every single day. She reached for the robe that Jim had left and pulled it on; it hung loosely on her frame and the sleeves fell past her fingertips.

Closing her eyes and scrunching up her face in concentration, she gripped the robe tightly as she pictured it closer to her size. Her hands grew warm and she looked down to see she had successfully… well almost successfully, resized the robe; the hem was a tad too short. Well, she was no seamstress; sighing in resignation, Melantha ran her fingers through her hair in a bid to ease out the tangles before tying it at the back of her head.

She knew that due to circumstances her appearance was less than stellar. What really frustrated her to no end was being wandless. If her previous day's schedule was anything to go by, then she would have no time to remedy the matter. How was she supposed to survive without a wand? Her hair looked a mess, her clothes were shabby and her breath was certainly no bed of roses. It really made her wonder and appreciate just how hard life must be for Muggles; life without a wand was simply unfathomable.

Upon hearing the unflattering growl from her stomach, Melantha was forced to forgo her present crisis of being wandless. She left the room and made her way to the kitchen where a number of pointed ears could be seen dashing between tables. Seeing the newest member of staff arrive, Milly gave the order for her to be given breakfast. Melantha almost gasped as a pair of small hands behind her knees steered her towards a seat at the table.

A second later, a steaming bowl of porridge was set before her, along with some buttered toast and a green apple. There was also a large goblet filled with a red juice. She made short work of the meal and took a sip of the juice; it was not berry as she had earlier surmised, but she found it pleasant all the same. She had just drained the last of it when Milly approached. "Miss is likin' the rhubarb juice? Milly is makin' herself."

"Rhubarb? Well, I suppose there's a first time--"

"Milly is sorry but no time for chit chat. Lots to do and stomachs to fill. Milly is showin Miss Morg' what she is to be doin'."

Melantha followed the little elf while listening intently to her orders for the day; she could tell it was going to be a long one.

* * *

Once again tired and sweaty after a long, tedious day, Melantha ate supper with the image of a hot shower and a warm bed the forefront in her mind. She had just risen from her seat when the door opened. Expecting to see Tom or even one of the many house-elves, it was to her immense surprise see a tall, old, merry-looking wizard. Before her, long, snowy white beard and all, stood none other than Albus Dumbledore.

"Morgana, is it? I'm Professor Dumbledore, it's a pleasure to meet you." The old wizard bowed as he acknowledged her.

Melantha gazed back into a pair of sparkling blue eyes on a wizened old face. Like anyone in the wizarding world, she had heard much about this wizard; one of the most powerful wizards of their time, the great defeater of Grindewald; mad old coot Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. She had seen his face many times in the Daily Prophet and various historical tomes, but seeing him in person was a completely new experience.

He was wearing a velvet, sky-blue robe with a matching pointed wizard's hat that was scattered with moving asteroids. She lightly shook his outstretched hand before replying slowly, "It is an honour to meet you, sir." _What is he doing here? _Wondered Melantha.

As Headmaster of one of the most prestigious magical schools in the world, Albus Dumbledore had seen many young minds pass through the halls of Hogwarts. Some had aspired to greatness, while others… others had fallen worse than the likes of old Gellert himself. Perhaps it was wisdom garnered from years of experience or maybe he was simply gifted, but he had always had an uncanny ability to read others.

Therefore, it came as nothing less than a surprise when, for the first time in decades, he was completely stumped. Morgana, this girl, was unlike anyone he had ever encountered. Forget that until that very morning in a letter from an old barkeep, he had never heard of her. Her mere presence seemed to unsettle him somewhat. While he could not quite put his finger on it, he could not exactly rule out her strange aura as evil.

He locked gazes with her, his serene smile never once faltering. He had to know more about this girl; he knew each of his pupils and she would be no exception, thought Dumbledore.

Melantha gazed back coolly, her features guarded. An instant later her inner alarm bells were sounding and she hastily slipped up her mental shields with practiced ease; she had realised what the older wizard had been attempting to do. She was loath to admit that some of her tutoring had actually proven to be of some use. She had been forcefully trained in Occlumency, her every thought and memory ruthlessly invaded until she was able to erect the strongest of mental barriers in a bid to protect her mind.

She had felt the gentle probing along the periphery of her mind, and while it was a complete contrast to the mental assaults she had been subjected to, she had immediately sensed an invasion by a Legilimens. Although she knew he had seen nothing, it was an attempted invasion of her mind, her most private sanctuary, and she had experienced too much to allow herself to be taken advantage of in even the slightest of ways.

Retracting his mental advances, Dumbledore took in her now frosty demeanour. Perhaps he had ventured too far; he had sensed her shield her mind, which could only mean that she knew exactly what he had attempted to do. This gave him pause as the teaching of Occlumency and Legilimency were not usually done with someone so young. This only added to the questions he had about this girl. He felt having her at Hogwarts, would be the best way for him to keep an eye on her and discover who she really was.

The older wizard at least had the grace to look somewhat contrite. "My apologies for being so bold. I did not mean to offend you."

Melantha was not swayed by his attempt to apologise.

"Really? Or perhaps you're merely sorry that you were found!" she sneered, rage blazing in her dark eyes.

"Forgive an old man's mistake, I meant you no harm. On the contrary, I merely wished to help."

Not entirely convinced, she gazed at him through narrowed eyes. "My thoughts are my own. And what gave you the idea I even need _your_ help?" she scoffed.

Her reaction seemed somewhat familiar; her strong will reminded him of an encounter a number of years ago. Dumbledore dismissed the idea before it had a chance to settle in his thoughts, shrugging it of as a mere coincidence; the girl was probably just displaying her want for independence.

"If I could have a moment of your time to explain not only myself but also why I am here," he said, gesturing to a chair for her to be seated.

Melantha ignored the proffered the seat and pointedly sat herself at the furthest end of the table. Dumbledore watched in amusement before seating himself. A moment of silence passed in which a staring contest ensued before Morgana ventured sardonically, "I take it you're not here for the soup of the day then?"

Chuckling lightly, he replied, "While I'm sure the soup must be delightful, I confess my visit this lovely evening does bear more weight than the delectable cuisine served here. Syrup lemon?" He pulled out a small transparent sachet from within his robes that held what appeared to be lemon peels drenched in a pinkish syrup.

"Er, no, thank you," she replied somewhat perplexed. _Where was he going with all this? Maybe they weren't lying when they said he was crazy…_

"Ah well, perhaps another day then; more for me I suppose. Muggles truly are geniuses when it comes to the finer confectionery. Simply marvellous; who would have imagined, syrup lemons? Well obviously someone, but I fear I digress," he said before plucking one of the peels and beginning to suck on it.

After a moment he continued, "Do you know that Tom is a very good friend of mine? It was with great interest that I was informed of a certain young lady that had recently come into his employ with nothing but the clothes on her back, looking as though she came out on the wrong side of a duel. I see he wasn't exaggerating in that regard."

Melantha averted her gaze; she had noticed just this morning that her bruises were as garish as ever. It was foolish to believe that it would go unnoticed, but she had hoped her luck would pull through. Obviously, there would be no such luck. She had been told by an adamant elf that Master Tom expected all the staff to be presentable at all times and as such, no loose hair was permitted. Since this was not a Knockturn Alley establishment, she did not have the luxury of hiding beneath a hood.

She felt exposed, even without being subjected to Legilimency, and the feeling was disconcerting.

Melantha met his gaze defiantly. "I do not see how any of this is pertinent--"

"Tom mentioned that you had no plans of completing your studies. I am sure you understand the importance of qualifying as a full-fledged witch. There are troubled times ahead, Morgana, and every witch and wizard needs as much magical education and control over their powers as possible. Hogwarts can offer you this."

Melantha haughtily countered, "I have told Tom already, and I will tell you the same, Hogwarts is not an option for me right now. Besides, what makes you think I don't already know all I need to? My tutoring was quite intensive and I do have a plan--"

"I sense that you have great potential; it would be such a shame to never see where it may lead. Hogwarts can also offer you protection. Many have seen it as a sanctuary and it still stands as such. As for your plan, I know Hogwarts might inconvenience it, but all I am asking is that you at least consider my proposal."

Melantha was out of excuses, his offer did sound very tempting and they would never find her there. However, there was the little concern of finance. She did not have enough funds to pay her way through Hogwarts for the next two years.

Dumbledore had been watching her reactions very closely and for a moment he was sure he had seen something akin to hope on her guarded features, but an instant later she was once again impassive.

It was no use dwelling on novel ideas involving warm, fuzzy feelings of safety where she was concerned. As long as she was still alive, there would always be the hovering threat that they would find her. Dismissing the idea before the seed of hope that his offer had planted could bloom, she plainly stated with a hint of frustration, "I cannot afford the fees, therefore the topic of Hogwarts is altogether moot."

While she knew her current state of poverty could not be helped, it still hurt her pride having to admit it aloud.

Smiling lightly, the Headmaster replied, "My girl, you need not worry. Hogwarts has a fund for students in unfortunate circumstance such as your own. I would not have broached the subject if there were any obstacles that would impede your coming to Hogwarts."

Deeply affronted at the suggestion, she ignored the well-meaning words. _What utter tosh!_ She needed no ones donations! Without a second thought she pompously replied, "I will not be anyone's charity case. Save your precious fund for one in desperate need of it."

Melantha would not be in anyone's debt; her pride would not allow her, even if it meant asylum and a means to a better life. It was bad enough owing a life-debt to some unknown saviour; she did not need incur any more debt.

Opting for an alternate approach, he ventured, "Tom tells me that while you are being paid to work here, food and accommodation are a part of the deal?"

"Yes, but what--"

"Well, what I propose is this: you come to Hogwarts where we offer you the same, perhaps with the circumstances tweaked somewhat, if you will."

Puzzled, Melantha queried, "Tweaked circumstances?"

"Well, as you are adamant about not being a _charity case,_ as you so put it, how would you feel about earning your place at Hogwarts? I am sure I could arrange something with our caretaker or perhaps our librarian. I know our groundskeeper would also be delighted to have your assistance. This way, you can attend Hogwarts through your own means. How does that sound to you?"

Melantha had been listening intently and was now thinking that perhaps she should have graciously accepted the initial offer, instead of allowing her damn pride to interfere. Working in a pub below the radar, so to speak, was one thing; working in a large school where her potential peers would be present, would be downright embarrassing.

Demeaning work aside, by attending Hogwarts, her opportunities were endless…. No, this was the only way, pride be damned! While her life had not been filled with hugs and kisses, everything she had been given had been the best money could buy. Her parents had a standard of life that had to be adhered to and that had extended to her. However, all the money and material things around her meant nothing, as she had grown to realise that she had been counted as one of her parents' many possessions. She had been owned and adorned as though she were a part of the estate, nothing more than a pretty trinket. It made her sick thinking about it.

Hogwarts was her way out, her way of finally breaking free from everything in her past. It was her new beginning. Now she had a chance to be her own person and make it on her own without depending or being indebted to anyone. The feeling was liberating and if doing so meant having to get her hands dirty, then so be it. She had endured worse and though she was sure working at Hogwarts would prove to be a humbling experience, since it was choosing the lesser evil where her pride was concerned.

Resolved, she replied, "I think that suits me just fine."

"Very well then. I think you will be a fine addition to our school. Down to business then, shall we? Let see, all students are expected to arrive via the Hogwarts Express, which departs from Platform nine and three quarters at King's Cross at precisely eleven on the morning of September first. The train will arrive at Hogsmeade station, not far from Hogwarts, where students then make their way towards the school. I understand from my earlier discussion with Tom that you will be doing your sixth year, however, I must ask that you proceed with the rest of the first years. Are you following so far?"

Melantha had been listening closely but what bothered her the most was the fact that she was expected to board a train with a number of other students for a few hours. As a new sixth year student, there was bound to be questions directed her way and she was not sure if she was ready to divulge anything from her past.

With that thought on her mind, she blurted, "Do I have to take the train? If Hogsmeade is not too far from Hogwarts, I could easily A--" she quickly broke off, realising that she would have admitted to Apparating without a licence.

With a knowing look he prompted her, saying, "You could easily what?"

"Uh, I'm sure it would be no problem boarding the train," she said in a rush. With no alternative, she knew that she would just have to bear it out somehow and take each moment as it came.

"Ah yes, that's what I thought. If you need any help getting to the station I am sure Tom would be happy to help you. Here you go." He handed her a train ticket that had 'Hogwarts Express, Platform nine and three quarters' printed in gold lettering.

"Thank you. Do you have a list of books and supplies I will need?"

"Yes, yes of course. I almost forgot." He then handed her a thick roll of parchment.

"You'll find a list of everything you will require as well as a set of rules and expectations of the school. I daresay you could find everything you need right here in Diagon Alley."

There was a moment of silence as Melantha gazed in disbelief at the rolls of parchment in her hands. She was going to Hogwarts.

Dumbledore got to his feet and a second later Melantha did the same. "Well, I do believe we are done, unless of course you have any queries?"

"No, no I'm fine, thank you."

The change in her tone was noticeable and the Headmaster was glad that she had become somewhat congenial.

"Very well, I should be on my way then. Time waits for no man and the week before school begins is always chaos. I wish you well, Morgana, and trust that I will see you at Hogwarts on the first. Good night, my dear." The old wizard smiled kindly at her before he made for the door.

Seeing that he was about to leave, Morgana quickly spoke, "Headmaster Dumbledore," the old wizard turned around to face his newest student as she continued, "I just-that is-thank you," she finished bashfully.

Smiling, the old wizard replied, "You are most welcome, my dear." Before striding out of the warm kitchen.

* * *

**To prevent any confusion, Melantha will be referred to as Morgana, with the exception of mild references being made to her former name.**

* * *

**A/N: I realise that's it's been ages since my last update, but I recently began a new job as a teacher. It's been quite hectic so I haven't had a lot of time with my fic. I do intend on finishing the story, it just may take longer than expected. School holidays are coming up so I may have more free time to work on the next chapters. So please do keep readin, this fic is NOT being abandoned or on hiatus.**

**Ok, something fun, so Melantha, ahem, Morgana is on her way to Hogwarts, so any guesses which house she'll be sorted into? 50 points to whoever guesses right. So let me know what you think guys, will it be Cunning and ambitious Slytherin; Proud and noble Gryffindor; Brilliant Ravenclaw or will it be Loyal and hard working Hufflepuff? Lets see how many of you can read between the lines... You can vote in the poll on my profile. Go on, you know you want to...**

**Ah, and of course, thanks to my betas, brcctexas, lavieboheme, mudbloodpround and Courtneyrochelle.**


	6. Onwards to Hogwarts

**Chapter 5- Onwards to Hogwarts**

Morgana worked hard the rest of the week, saving every tip she made. Since accepting the offer to attend Hogwarts, her plans had once again been altered. Every Knut was precious and she knew she would most likely need every bit of her paltry savings to purchase the items she would need for the duration of her stay at Hogwarts.

She found herself looking forward to her new life with each day that brought her closer to boarding the Hogwarts Express. Tom had been happy for her deciding to attend the school and was kind enough to allow her to keep her employment at the pub when her school year ended. Morgana was grateful, for this as it meant that she would not be homeless and without an income when school ended.

In her work at the Cauldron, she developed a newfound respect for the house-elves and anyone else having to do manual labour. With the week's rush, she had been constantly kept on her toes and as such had not had a chance to acquire any toiletries. While she did not feel as pampered as she once did, her current freedom more than made up for her new lifestyle, with the only regret that she had not left home sooner.

She knew that she would never forget her past and nor did she want to, but for now, she wanted to be as carefree as possible. As for Lucius, well, revenge was a dish best served cold and she definitely intended on getting her own back. He would pay, of that she was certain.

Morgana ran her hands through her clean hair, trying to neaten it. Today was Saturday, the day before she was to board the Hogwarts Express. She had been busy the entire week but Tom had been understanding and kind enough to give her the day off to prepare for her departure. She had a number of things to do and had risen early that morning in the hopes of getting a head start.

Milly had informed her of all the shops in Diagon Alley where she could procure the items on her list second-hand. She would not be able to purchase everything on her list were she to purchase anything brand new. It irked having to pay for someone else's leftovers but since she had no choice, she knew it was best to just get over and accept it.

With a last look in the mirror, she decided that she did not look too bad. Thankfully, her bruises had finally faded. She left the bathroom and pulled on her travelling cloak before exiting her small bedroom. She made her way to the kitchen where breakfast was a quick, simple affair of buttered toast and now her favourite, rhubarb juice.

The morning was bright and cool with the first few patrons of Diagon Alley already making their way between shops. She worked her way systematically between through the myriad of shops, carefully buying the barest of essentials since her funds were limited and she still had to buy her most important item: a wand.

Eventually, she reached what appeared to be a general store. A young witch with curly blond hair sat on the counter reading a copy of Witch Weekly. She barely looked up as Morgana entered the shop. She walked to the furthest end of the shop and began to browse the many aisles. There was nothing really that she needed, or rather, could afford. Eventually, she made her way still empty-handed into the last aisle, from where she could see caught sight of the witch on the counter now charming her long nails various shades of pink.

Morgana rolled her eyes and looked back to the many shelves on the walls. There were rows of a range of potion bottles lining the walls. On closer inspection, she realised that she was looking at various beauty potions. A sparkling pink bottle caught her eye. _Lady Lockhart's Perfect Pearls Potion- guaranteed to ensure a sparkling smile every time! Strawberry flavoured._ Morgana scoffed at the label. A witch with a shiny mane of golden hair was flashing a dazzling smile at her. After a glance at the price tag, Morgana shook her head and made her way towards the counter.

Again, the young witch paid her no notice. "Ahem," Morgana cleared her throat loudly in a bid to get her attention.

"Mm? What-oh, can I help you?" the young witch finally acknowledged her and seemed almost surprised to see that someone was there.

Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, Morgana replied, "Yes, do you perhaps have something more affordable than what this _Lady Lockhart_ has to offer?"

She screwed her face up in concentration as if Morgana had just asked her to define the secrets of the universe, and not merely for an alternative potion. A moment passed before she answered, "Well, I suppose there are these--" She leant over the counter and pulled out a dusty box that contained a number of potion-filled vials. Morgana carefully picked out a bottle and inspected the label: _wart removal _was scribbled on in an almost illegible, spidery lettering. The price was a fraction of what anything on the shelf sold for.

Morgana gazed sceptically at it. "Why the large price difference? And why are these hidden behind the counter?" she said as she gestured to the box.

"Well for starters, it's not exactly eye-catching. I mean presentation is everything. only reason we stock it is as a favour to some bird my dad used to know in school, Ella- or something the like. Bless his sweet old heart. If it were I, I would tell her to take her wares down Knockturn you know. Merlin knows! Her son looks like he crawled out of one of them alleys. He comes by once a month or so to restock. Not much of a looker that one, and moody too. He should really consider using some of this stuff on his hair. I once tried chattin' him up, just for the fun of it, you know, and you'd think he'd be grateful for the attention. The boy just doesn't know how to recognise a good thing; I think he's just got his wand stuck too far up his--"

"Do they work?" she hastily interrupted the girl's inane ramblings. Morgana was quickly losing her patience.

"Does what work?" the girl asked puzzled.

Annoyed, Morgana hastily replied, "The potions, do they work?"

"Well I suppose they must, mustn't they? Else there'd be no point stocking them would there? Oh but I absolutely love Lady Lockhart's range though, woman's a genius she is--"

"Yes thank you, I'll take the mouth cleanser," she once again interrupted the chatty girl before she could begin another one of her ramblings.

Quickly handing her the exact coins, she collected her potion and hurriedly made her way out the store. She heard the girl call after her, "Come again, I could always do with a good chat!"

Now Morgana did roll her eyes, the last thing she would want to do was share beauty tips with a complete airhead. A good part of the morning had already passed and the crowd in Diagon Alley had already begun to grow. It seemed as though a number of other people were in need of last minute shopping. Morgana stuffed the potion into the cloth sack that contained her other purchases. She had spent quite a bit of her money, on the things she would need for Hogwarts. Although she had combined the money she had earned over the few days working at the Leaky cauldron with what she had procured in Knockturn alley, there was only so far she could stretch it and she still had her robes and of course her wand to buy.

Without as much as a glance to any of the other stores, she made her way in the general direction of the wand shop Milly had told her about. She had said that there was no way she could miss the gold lettering of Ollivander's Wands, as it was one of the most prestigious shops in the Alley. She hoped she would be able to afford the wand and some robes; if not, then she could always transfigure the robes she had.

Standing outside Ollivander's, she was both anticipating and dreading entering the store. While she longed for the power she knew she would have with a wand at her fingertips, she also knew that she could only afford a second-hand one. A wand was revered by its owner and if a wand chose its owner, then it would mean she would be chosen as second best. A wand was very personal and definitely not something meant to be shared.

Sighing in resignation, she entered the shop and took in the dusty appearance of the shop. Rows of long boxes lined the walls while some were stacked in heaps in the corners.

"Good day Miss, in need of a new wand are we? Or perhaps simply refurbishing?" Morgana spun around as she heard a voice behind her.

_Where had he appeared from?_ she wondered. Quickly recovering herself she replied, "No, a wand, just not a new one." There was a hint of reluctance as she spoke that was not lost on the wandmaker.

"Yes, well, there are a number of second-hand wands that are in reasonably good condition. Rest assured, all my second-hand wands have been refurbished and are in perfect working order. I am certain we can find something to suit you. I have never been wrong. So, let's get started then shall we, miss…?"

"Morgana, just Morgana," she replied.

The wandmaker glanced shrewdly at her, but merely raised an eyebrow. He thought better than to comment.

By mid-afternoon, she had still not found the right wand. None seemed to bond just right with her. Some were too temperamental or too weak while others had a complete mind of their own. She was not the only one feeling more than a little frustrated. The wandmaker himself was beginning to grow agitated at his inability to find the perfect wand.

Finally Morgana spoke up, "This is not working. Perhaps there's another store I could try?" she ventured, vainly trying to keep the impatience out of her voice. She was hot, tired and the smoke from her futile attempts to get a wand to work combined with the dust that accompanied the wands dug up from storage was beginning to bother her.

"No, no, no, the right wand is here somewhere, I know it is," he replied as he discarded another failed wand to large pile that head steadily grown. He huffed in irritation as he mad his way to yet another shelf of boxes. He had just reached for what Morgana was sure was to be another waste of time when he suddenly froze.

"Mm… what if… it's not impossible… thought sooner…" he mumbled distractedly to himself before making his way to the back of the store. Puzzled, Morgana managed to catch the pensive look on his face as he scurried past.

Minutes passed, and just when Morgana was beginning to believe he had gone into hibernation, the wandmaker came out cradling the dustiest and tattiest box she had seen yet.

"It's worth a try but I've yet to be wrong," he told her as he removed the lid and handed her a long dark wand. The moment the wand made contact with her palm she knew it was the one she had been looking for. A second later and a stream of green and silver sparks erupted from the tip of the wand.

The wandmaker smiled smugly before saying, "Ah, I see. Right, now just give it a little swish and see how it works for you."

Morgana did as instructed and was amazed as a large double-headed snake emerged from the end of her wand. The snake swirled around her while its heads seemed to be entwining around each other.

Morgana moved her gaze to the wandmaker seeking assurance that this was the expected reaction. However, the look on his face spoke the contrary. The smug look he had worn disappeared and was replaced with one of bewilderment. Clearly, this was as much a surprise to him as it had been for her.

After a few minutes, the serpent dissolved into a black cloud before dissipating. She looked down at the wand to examine it closer. It was, simply put, amazing. It was intricately carved and its black wood was highly polished. The glossy ebony looked brand new.

The hilt was formed of two snake heads entwined, facing each other, while the common tail that they shared formed the rest of the wand. One of the heads was silver while the rest was smooth ebony. Upon further inspection, she noticed that the eyes were tiny green stones. The wand itself actually felt warm in her hands, almost alive and still she knew it belonged with her.

She placed the wand carefully into its box and her stomach suddenly plummeted as she realised that there was no way she could ever possibly own such a fine, splendid and perfect wand…

"I see we've found our match then. I'll just wrap it up for you--"

"No, that kind of wand, I'm sure it's out of my price range, there must be something- something else," she interjected, trying to hide the longing in her voice, all the while never taking her eyes off the wand in the box.

"Actually, you'd only be paying three Galleons for refurbishment and storage."

Sceptical and with a slight frown, she asked, "What's wrong with it?"

Peeved at the mere insinuation that he would trade below average goods, he sniffed before replying, "Absolutely nothing is _wrong_with it." He walked around the counter and sat the box upon it.

"Then why--"

"Is the price so generous?" he cut her off before continuing, "Simple, it is not mine."

"Excuse me? What do you mean it's not yours?"

Sighing, he said, "The wand, it is not one of my crafts. This wand was passed down from the wandmaker under whom I apprenticed. He used to have a shop in Hogsmeade. Anyway, it has never been sold and since it is the only wand in this shop not crafted by me. I have a feeling that it was never meant to really be sold."

Morgana, although somewhat intrigued, felt as though Christmas had come early and could not help the shadow of a grin that was threatening to spread.

Paying careful attention to her facial expressions, he took her silence as affirmation that she was still interested in the wand. Again, he asked, "So, shall I wrap it up for you then?"

"Actually, I'd like to keep it on me if it's all the same."

"Certainly, as you wish."

She pulled out her money pouch and laid the gold coins on the counter before taking hold of the wand almost reverently.

"Thank you Mr. Ollivander," she replied in a low voice.

He waved his wand over her box, and the next instant it was brand new. He handed her the box before replying, "It's a pleasure, Morgana."

Placing the box with her other purchases, she left the shop with a feel of magic bubbling beneath her fingertips. She felt powerful, unstoppable, as though she were capable of anything.

The feeling of recklessness that had so quickly risen with her new sense of power, rapidly dissipated as she remembered how dependant she had become on having a wand. She remembered how helpless she had been when her father had destroyed her wand in the alley. There was no denying that a wand had its uses, and it definitely made life easier. However, she had learnt that to be dependant on anything not attached to your body which could easily be removed, leaving one in a state of vulnerability, was a grave mistake that she did not intend on repeating. So yes, for now, the wand would help her out, but in time, she would strive to ensure that it would not be her sole lifeline.

More than satisfied with her latest purchase, Morgana began looking for a shop that sold second-hand robes. Although she had made such a bargain on her wand, she was doubtful that she would be able to afford a new robe. She only hoped that the shop Milly had suggested would be gentle on the remains of her paltry week's earnings.

The little money that she had managed to procure from the sale of that horrid necklace had mostly been spent on the long list of books, stationery and various other items of equipment that she would require during her time at Hogwarts.

She began to make her way back towards the Leaky Cauldron when she spotted just the shop she was looking for: to her left, a door away from Ollivander's was the second-hand robe store that Milly had told her of.

She stepped into the shop and after a moment was attended to by an old woman who had made her way out from the back.

"Ah, young lady, what can I do for you?" asked the old woman.

"Well, I'll be starting at Hogwarts so I'll be--"

"Needing a set of witch's robes. Hmm, you really should have come sooner, there aren't that many school robes left to choose from, but lets have a look anyway shall we?" The old lady approached some of the racks with Morgana following. Morgana noticed that the racks were, indeed quite empty. They reached a rack that held about four robes through which the older witch began rifling through in search for the right robe. Morgana watched anxiously; this was her only choice although she reasoned that if it came down to it, she would just have to do with wearing boys robes.

"Ah, I was beginning to think you'd leave empty handed. Here, try it on for size, it seems a tad too short but that can always be remedied."

Morgana took the robe from the outstretched hand of the older witch and made her way behind the screen in the corner of the store. She stepped out a moment later and approached the platform to see her reflection in the large mirror. While the fit would do, the sleeves and length of the robe was too short. She noticed that overall, the robe was in fairly good condition with exception of an odd burn along the inner cuff of the left sleeve. The material had a purple scorch mark and a number of tiny holes.

The old witch saw Morgana examining the sleeve and spoke, "Yes, it's not perfect and while the length is no problem, I'm afraid there's nothing to be done with that burn. It's been damaged most likely by magic or even a potion spill and try as they may, my elves just couldn't mend it."

Once again realising that she did not have other options, she replied, "Thank you, it will do." The old woman smiled at Morgana and began to make the necessary markings with her wand in places where she thought the robe required altering.

A few minutes later and Morgana had changed into her own robes and handed the school robe back to the old witch. "Right, the alterations can be done while you wait, if you do not mind, Pippin is excellent at what he does, it will be done in a trice."

"That is fine. I would, however, like to take a look through the rest of those robes," she gestured to the rack from which they had searched through earlier, "in the mean time if it's all right with you?"

The old witch replied kindly, "Yes of course, go ahead."

Morgana realised that a single school robe would not last the entire school year. She would have to resort to wearing boys robes after all. She sifted through the remaining robes and found two that would do. They were larger and more worn than the first robe but again, they would do. She approached the older witch who had moved behind the counter but thought it best to check how far her funds would stretch. Turning her back slightly to shield herself somewhat from view she counted the few coins that her purse contained and realised that she could only afford to purchase two of the robes.

Slightly embarrassed as she was just a few steps away from the counter, she handed one of the robes to the older witch and said, "Um, I'll just take the two." Her face had a slight flush to it as she spoke and she avoided making eye contact with the older woman.

She had just turned around and made to replace the extra robe that she would not be able to afford, when the old witch's voice rang out, "Dearie, I gather you missed the sign in the window; the robe is yours unless you really don't need it."

Morgana watched as the older witch summoned a sign from the stores window. She was almost certain that it had not been there when she had entered. The old woman showed her the sign. It was gold with large black letters in bold that read:

**CLEARANCE SALE: PURCHASE ANY TWO ROBES AND GET A THIRD FREE**

Morgana looked up to see the old witch smiling kindly at her and she felt her face burn in embarrassment. While she did not want to look at the gesture as one of charity, she was however, grateful.

"Thank you, that's very kind of you. I will indeed take all three robes." Morgana handed her the third robe. The old woman clicked her fingers and an old elf appeared, quickly collecting the robes to make the necessary alterations.

Morgana waited patiently while her robes were attended to and a short while later the elf appeared once more with a box in his hands. He placed it on the counter and swiftly disappeared.

"Ah, I see that your robes are finally complete. I have had Pippin add Self-Ironing charms to the robes, it should make it easier when you are at school my dear," she told Morgana kind-heartedly.

Morgana emptied her purse and handed over her last few coins to the old witch before replying, "Thank you, again. I-I really do appreciate it."

"You are most welcome child, most welcome," she replied with a smile.

Morgana gathered her package and left the robe store. Her money all spent, she made her way back to her rooms at the Leaky Cauldron where she could pack for her trip to Hogwarts. She hoped that she had not forgotten to buy anything of importance, not that it would make a difference now.

* * *

Morgana awoke to the feel of Cornish Pixies trying to escape from her stomach. Today was the day; today, she would be leaving for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Today was the first day of the rest of her life.

She had managed to finish packing her few belongings the night before. Tom had found an old, battered trunk for her in which she could store her things. All she needed was to get dressed and have Milly get her to the train station. Tom had arranged for the elf to transport her to the train station as she had never been there before. Morgana was grateful for all that they had done for her and knew that a small part of her would miss the place that had temporarily been a home for her.

Standing before the mirror, she examined her appearance: she was wearing the robes that she had left home with as they were in much better condition than the other wizard's robe that she had found. As luck would have it, she had forgotten to buy a bottle of shampoo and had resorted to using the soap that was in her bathroom, which left her hair looking rather limp and dull. Since he had her new wand though, she was at least able to cast charms that would untangle and smooth her hair.

Satisfied that she was presentable, she took one last look around her rooms to ensure that she had not forgotten anything. She then grabbed the handle of her trunk and made her way to the kitchen where Milly said she would be waiting.

She entered the kitchen to find the usual sight of elves bustling around preparing for the day. "Ah, Miss Morg' you is ready. Here, Milly is making you a healthy pack of lunch to take on the train and an extra large flask of Miss' favourite rhubarb juice. Is Miss Morg' sure she is having everything? Milly does not mind checking again for Miss. Is Miss' clothes all neat and clean, perhaps Milly should make sure? Milly should make more food, yes, Miss Morg' should be well fed for her trip to school, growing girls need lots of healthy food for a healthy mind. Milly wants Miss Morg' to be the brightest witch at the school to learn Magiks—" The little elf had frantically started fussing over Morgana as she stepped into the kitchen.

Before the elf could get further carried away, Morgana interrupted her, "Milly, thank you so much but I'm sure everything is packed, and I'm sure the food is more than enough. You've really been wonderful."

Milly gazed tearily at Morgana with her large eyes. The elf gave a large sniff before throwing herself around Morgana's middle in a tight embrace. Morgana patted the elf gently on her back and a second later Milly had let go, had Morgana's trunk open, and was busy reorganising all her possessions into a more orderly fashion. She added the pack of food and cast an anti-Spill charm as a safety measure.

Morgana caught Tom watching the little scene in amusement. Morgana left Milly and approached the old barman. "Tom, I'd just like to thank you for everything, for helping me out. I'm really grateful, I don't know where I would be if it weren't for you."

The barman smiled at her before replying, "Morgana, it has been a pleasure havin' ye. Yer a bright witch an' I'm sure that ye'll do well at Hogwarts. I wish ye all the best an' hope ye know that ye'll always be welcomed back at the Cauldron. Yer job an' room will be waiting for ye if you decide to come back o'er the holidays."

Morgana felt her chest clench; she was not used to such affection. She was amazed that someone could show such kindness to the stranger that she had been.

"Thank you Tom, thank you very much," she said in a quiet voice.

"Don't mention it. An' now I think it's best the both of ye get goin' if ye plan on makin' it on that train."

Morgana found Milly at her side, her trunk closed, and the elf's little hand suddenly slipped into her own, clutching on tightly.

"Fare well, Morgana," said the old barman.

Morgana gave a fleeting smile before replying, "Good-bye Tom."

A breathless moment later and Morgana felt herself being squeezed from all sides and almost instantly it was over and she found herself on a platform facing a huge scarlet train. It was still quite early and only a handful of other students were waiting with their families.

Morgana glanced down to find Milly shuffling around her legs. The elf was having a hard time seeing Morgana leave. Making sure that no one was paying any attention to them, she crouched down and took the elf's hands in her own. Morgana was not very comfortable with such displays of affection; the very idea was totally foreign to her. She did, however, want to get the moment over with so that she could board the train before more people arrived.

"There, there Milly, it's not like I'll be gone forever; I'll write and before you know it I'll be back," she said trying to console the elf.

"Of course, Miss Morg', Milly is just being silly. Miss must let Milly know if Miss is needing anything. Milly can be here in a moment--" she snapped her fingers as if to emphasise, "—if Miss wants."

"Thank you Milly, but I really should be boarding the train now," Morgana replied, rising and gently releasing the elf's hands.

"Oh yes, of course, Milly should be getting back to Master Tom. Good-bye Miss Morg', and good luck," the elf said through a stream of tears before she disappeared with a loud _crack._

Sighing, Morgana pulled her trunk along as she boarded the train. She was one of the first to do so and so had her pick of the compartments. Hoping that she would not be bothered, she made her way towards the end of the train and chose the very last compartment. She stored her trunk beneath her seat and took a seat by the window.

She pulled out her wand and ran her fingers over the intricate work. She could hardly believe how much had happened over a single week: she had been assaulted by that prick Malfoy, run away from home, barely survived her father's attempt to kill her and had managed to pick herself up after everything and make her way to Hogwarts. It was all so surreal.

Morgana replaced the wand inside her robe and idly stared out the window as the platform slowly began to fill with students and their families.

Animated voices could be heard all over the platform as friends met up to board the train which would once again take them to another exciting year at Hogwarts, while other new voices were anxious about their first trip to the legendary school.

Soon the once empty train had filled up with bustling students and Morgana was glad that her compartment was now being shared by a pair of nervous first-years. The two young boys were dressed in seemingly Muggle attire and were too afraid to look at her let alone bother her with trying to make conversation, which was just as well for Morgana since she had decided that by keeping to herself, she would avoid questions to which she would rather no one knew the answers to.

Having changed into her robes shortly before she was joined by the two first years, Morgana was ready to get the train ride over with. The sooner she was settled in at Hogwarts, the better. She once again stared outside at the now almost empty platform while the two boys spoke in hushed whispers to each other.

Most families had left while a few lingered to say farewell as the train left. Her attention went shortly to the back of a tall boy who was making his way to board the train. A second later and she saw a jet of light hit his ankle, sending him sprawling to the ground. She watched as the boy struggled to pick himself up while a group of laughing boys stepped over him.

"Idiots," she mumbled to herself. Eventually the boy had managed to get up and walked out of her view. The train gave a jerk and slowly began to move.

Morgana sighed and pushed the incident out of her mind. The train had picked up speed and soon the platform had disappeared from site to be replaced with green hills, which would slowly change to mountains.

The ride passed by rather uneventfully for Morgana: the boys kept to themselves and their compartment had no visitors save for a trolley lady who came to sell a number of sweet wares for which Morgana had no money to spend on while the two boys bought a bit of everything. She ate the lunch that Milly had prepared for her, which was especially good, while the boys looked as if they were going to be sick.

The sky had darkened and Morgana was sure that they would be arriving soon. She stood up and left the compartment intent on finding the lavatory. Luckily, she had made it without meeting anyone who with interest in her. She was nearly at her compartment when she heard raised voices coming from an open compartment.

She walked by and caught a glimpse of the occupants: three boys had their wands out and Morgana noticed that the two closest to the door looked like the boys she had seen laughing earlier on the platform. The taller of the two had wavy black hair with smug look on his face, while the shorter, plumper boy looked mousy and wide-eyed.

"... me guess, you're gonna dunk our heads in one of your slimy cauldrons so we can have matching greasy hair styles, Snivellus?" she heard the taller boy say.

The third boy in the compartment stood closest to the window with a book lying at his feet. He had shoulder length black hair that framed his face. His fingers were white-knuckled as he gripped his wand, which was emitting green sparks. "GET OUT BLACK! You're such a coward thinking you're so big just like that prat Potter! Just you wait, one of these days, I'll show--"

"One of these days you'll finally discover the wonders of shampoo and we'll all stop loosing our lunch every time we see you... or not." He let out a bark of laughter and his partner let out an appreciative snicker, apparently highly amused.

Livid, the boy Black had called Snivellus sent a cutting hex towards Black. Morgana watched as it narrowly missed his eye leaving a streak of red across his brow. He had managed to move at the last minute but not enough to avoid the spell completely.

Spurred by the spell that was thrown at him, Black began returning spells in kind, aided by his meek partner who seemed to be almost trying to shield himself behind his bigger built friend.

While Morgana did not want to involve herself in that which did not concern her, after years of being defenceless against her father, she couldn't help but feel as if the current duel was unfair being two against one.

Slipping her wand out of her robe, she hastily cast a stunning spell at the mousy-looking boy before quickly making her way to her compartment. She heard the satisfying sound behind her of a body hitting the floor telling her that her spell had been had met its target. Now that the odds had been evened, she had no reason to stick around and be caught by either party or some other observer. Outside her compartment, she could hear the commotion from the duelling pair increase and with it a crowd that had been drawn towards the ruckus.

Suddenly, her compartment door was pulled open and a boy with brown hair and fading scratch marks on his face hastily stepped past. Morgana managed to spy a shiny badge on his robe before she stepped into the compartment and shut the door.

The two boys had pulled on their robes and were whispering frantically to each other. Morgana heard parts of their conversation, "...said we'd be there soon..."

"...going on out there...?"

"...must stay here..."

"...want to get expelled...fed to dementor-things..."

"...giants on boats..."

"...eaten by squid things..."

Morgana let their words drift from her thoughts of what she had just witnessed to her impending arrival. People would be curious, would want to know why a sixteen-year old witch was only coming to Hogwarts in now. A sixteen-year old witch by the name of Morgana who had no surname, no family, no known background and apparently no money once they caught a glimpse of her second-hand robes and the sight of her probably performing some menial, demeaning chores as she earned her stay.

She sighed audibly and decided that she would just deal with her situation as the need arose. She felt the train slow down until it stopped with a slight jerk. Ensuring that she had all her belongings safely in her trunk, she waited a while until she was sure that most of the occupants of the train had left before making her way off the train. Students had already begun to make their way towards carriages that would, no doubt lead them to the castle.

Hoping to find herself an empty carriage, Morgana was suddenly halted when a patronus in a form of a phoenix glided towards her and spoke in the voice of Albus Dumbledore, "Morgana, please be so kind as to join the other first years in the boats which will take you across the lake."

A number of students were now staring at Morgana and a few first years had hurriedly scuttled away when they saw the silver, transparent bird that could apparently talk. Morgana let out an audible sigh. _Great, that's all I need, to be singled out with a bunch of kids. _

She found herself a boat that had just one other occupant, a black-haired girl who had her nose in the air. The girl gave Morgana a slight appraising glance before promptly turning her face in the opposite direction.

Resisting the urge to throw the snooty little girl into the inky blackness of the lake, Morgana urged the boat on. It seemed as though the boats were all charmed to go at the same safe pace to ensure that no students met up with the giant squid.

However, Morgana soon forgot about the girl when she looked up and was stunned by the incredible sight that was Hogwarts castle. She had been around fine buildings often enough, but this was simply remarkable. And while the scene was breath taking, what added to the moment was the fact that Morgana had the overwhelming feeling that she was finally coming home. She could feel the tingle of her magic flowing through her veins and she was almost certain that she had felt her wand twitch.

Ahead of her, Morgana could see students that had already made it to the shore and were collecting around a rather large figure. Not long after and Morgana too had joined the bustling, anxious crowd. A booming voice was heard over the numerous excited chatter, "Righ' firs' years, ye'll be followin' me up te the castle wher' Professor McGonagall will be waitin' fer ye. No pushin' now, ye'll all get there soon enough. Oh, righ', an' the name's Hagrid, in case ye'r wonderin'."

The group made their way towards the castle and soon they were standing on the steps with a stern-looking witch gazing down at them. "Thank you Hagrid, I will take them from here."

With an acknowledging the nod, he departed from the group and made his way towards a cabin at the end of the field. "Right, then, first years—and you--" she paused as her gaze fell on Morgana before quickly taking in the group as a whole, "—follow me."

The group made their way in through the large doors and followed the older witch to another set of large doors. She stopped before the closed doors and turned to face the group before addressing them, "In a few moments you will join the rest of the school in the Great Hall which is through the doors behind me. I will call out your names and thereafter you will come forward and sit on the stool before you. Upon it is a hat which you will place upon your heads. You will then be Sorted into one of the four Houses, Ravenclaw, Huffelpuff, Slytherin and Gryffindor, of which I am Head of House. Each house will act as a family for whoever joins it for the next seven years. You may earn or lose points for your House and any misdemeanours on your part will be reported to your Head of House who will see to a fitting punishment. Are there any questions?" she spoke quickly and Morgana could see a number of blank-looking faces around her that were still trying to absorb everything she had said.

"The Sorting Ceremony will begin shortly. You will wait in here quietly until the doors open when you will calmly enter the hall. I suggest you use this time to neaten yourselves up," she said and her gaze lingered on a boy with red hair who looked as though he had been rolling in the grass.

She turned on her heel and entered the hall, closing the door behind her. Animated chatter from hundreds of students was heard in the brief moment when she opened the doors. Morgana looked down at her robes; they were at least clean and wrinkle-free in comparison to some of her younger companions. They had begun to make a single row and Morgana ensured that she was at the very end of the line. In the process of trying to calm her nerves, Morgana heard a few frightened gasps followed by the sound of voices behind her, "Perhaps we should wait for after the Ceremony, Baron, now might not be the best—"

"Sir Nicholas, kindly refrain from telling me what you think I should and should not be doing. The honour is mine, and mine alone. We have all waited long enough, and I shall do as I see fit!" A formidable-looking ghost with chains around his neck and what appeared to be blood spatters on his front was having a heated conversation with another ghost. The ghost floating alongside him was fidgeting nervously with his ruffled collar.

Morgana noticed that they were not the only ghosts present: it seemed as though every ghost in the castle was floating towards..._her_. The Cornish Pixies in her stomach had returned with a vengeance. _What now?_

She noticed that the line of students had distanced themselves from her and were now watching in frightened curiosity. The group of ghosts headed by the one with the chains now stood, or rather floated before her. She watched as they bowed or curtsied before the one with the chains spoke again, this time to her, "Morgana, welcome, it is a pleasure and an immense honour to finally meet you. We have waited patiently for this moment."

Stunned at her reception, Morgana apprehensively replied, "Um, okay?"

Ignoring her shaky response the Bloody Baron continued in his deep, gruff voice, "My Lady, I hope you know that we are at your disposal; anything you may wish, you have but to say and it will be done. And anyone who displeases you in the slightest will have me to deal with."

"Do I make myself clear, Peeves?" he growled menacingly at a poltergeist that had been pulling faces and making rude gestures at some of the frightened first years. Startled, Peeves flew back into the group of first years who began shrieking when they felt the icy, disconcerting feel one experienced as a ghost passed through them.

"Y-yes, of-of course, Bl-Bl-Bloody Baron, sir," stuttered the poltergeist.

"And get away from those students, you fool!" snarled the Bloody Baron.

Morgana watched as the one called Peeves flew to the back of the group of ghosts before venturing, "Does everyone warrant such a –uh-reception?"

"My dear lady, but surely...if you do not know...we are not permitted to speak of it, and in present company no less," replied the Bloody Baron vaguely.

Now Morgana was most certainly confused; W_hat is going on? What could these ghosts possibly know and how the hell does it involve me? _wondered Morgana.

Morgana did not have time to ponder those thoughts further, for a second later, the double doors through which the older which had gone through earlier, opened widely, revealing a large hall which was filled with students. The first-yeas who were still stunned by the ghostly welcoming committee jumped when they heard the stern voice of Professor McGonagall beckon from the hall, sounding slightly miffed, "First years!"

The group hastily made their way into the hall with Morgana bringing up the rear. The ghosts began to disperse and Morgana heard the Bloody Baron tell her in a low voice as he floated past her, "We shall speak in a moment, my Lady; I shall save you a seat." She watched as the ghost flew to the nearest table that was decorated in green and silver. The ghost then began to clear the head of the table of students that had the misfortune of seating themselves there.

Her attention was drawn to the spectacle before her, where a shoddy-looking hat that had been placed upon a stool was now singing. She tuned out the hat's song and idly began to take in her surroundings; the Hall was huge and had four large tables running its length, at which each held a number of students, some of whom were pointing and snickering at her. Being fairly tall for her age, she obviously stood out from the rest of the tinier first-years and the rest of the school had been quick to notice this.

At the end of the room was a platform which seated the teachers, with, she recognised, the Headmaster at the centre on a large chair. Even from her distance, she could make out his blue twinkling eyes and a smile on his face. He seemed to be looking right at her, but Morgana had not forgotten the last time she had looked into his eyes and quickly averted her gaze. The best part of the Hall in Morgana's opinion had to be the ceiling, which amazingly, was charmed to depict the sky outside.

Her eyes swept back to where the Bloody Baron was floating; most of the people pointing at her were from his table. Morgana noticed the boy who had been in the duel earlier; his hair hung forward and Morgana was sure that he was trying to cover what looked like a bruise on his cheek. Their gazes locked, and Morgana was staring into a pair of eyes so dark she was sure they were black. The look he gave her was an intense one and she was sure that he was scrutinizing her.

Not wanting to have a staring contest, she tore her gaze away to the opposite side of the room where a group at of students at the red and gold decorated table were chattering amongst themselves, oblivious to the glare they were eliciting from Professor McGonagall.

Again, she recognised the group from earlier as the ones who had tripped the long-haired boy at the train station. The one known as Black had a thin cut above his eyebrow but seemed not to care. A number of girls were admiring him and trying to get his attention but he did not notice. He had one arm casually hanging on the shoulder of a boy with messy black hair, and was talking loudly to his group of friends. His eyes however, kept darting back to Morgana, and she was taken aback when he boldly winked at her.

Frowning, Morgana turned her attention back to the hat in front of her. The line of students before her had dwindled, each seating themselves on the stool with the hat on their heads, before it called out their new House.

The hat had just shouted "HUFFLEPUFF," and the boy Morgana recognised as one of her two companions from the train, hastily made his way to join the table decked out in yellow, that was now cheering loudly for him.

This was it, in a moment she would hear her own name being called and she would have to don the hat just like the rest of them. Already the centre of attention being the only sixteen-year old amongst the group to be Sorted, she noticed that the entire Hall was now focused on her, as she was the only one left to be sorted.

She watched as Professor McGonagall frowned slightly at the parchment she held, as she regarded the list of names. A second later and she called out in a level voice, "Morgana!"

Taking a deep breath, and with her head held high, she made her way towards the stool, trying to ignore the chattering that had begun and the loud wolf whistle that she was sure came from the red table.

"Mister Black! Behave yourself," she heard Professor McGonagall admonish. The last thing she saw before placing the hat on her head was the boy called Black smirking at her.

As the hat covered her head she heard a voice in her head say,_ "Ah, Morgana, the castle has awaited the return of its daughter. Mm, curious, I expected your arrival a few years ago but no matter, my job is no less easy. Your place is rightfully in—"_

Morgana did not mind where she went, as long as it was not _there_. Assuming that it was the hat talking to her, she hastily interrupted it as she thought,_ I don't care where you put me, as long as I'm not in the same house as__** that**__ idiot!_

"_Come now, child, there is only one place you belong­­­—"_

Again she interrupted, _NOT THERE!_

Annoyed, the hat insisted, "_Morgana, it would go against my very existence to—"_

Unwilling to be bossed by a tattered old hat, Morgana forcefully thought, _Now listen here, you mangled scrap of cloth, I will NOT be in __**that**__ house! If you ever wish to sing another inane song, you __**will**__ ensure that I am anywhere but there!_

"_Hmph, fine, fine! Have it your way. In that case, in can only be_…"

* * *

**A/N: I know it's been ages since my last update but life has been hectic as usual! Hope you enjoyed that chapter. Here's where the fun finally begins; Morgana's at Hogwarts and what will her peers think of her? More importantly, who will be her peers? Any ideas on her house yet? C'mon, last chance to guess, let me know what you think in a lovely little review or even just vote in the poll on my profile! Pretty please?**

**Thanx to ma beta mudbloodproud for gettin this chapter done so soon, I know, it's the longest yet..**


	7. Aside from the Pride

**Chapter 6- A****side from the Pride**

Morgana sat in the circular room looking at the many items around her. The Headmaster's office seemed to mirror his eccentricity.

She was beginning to grow annoyed at having to wait for the Headmaster to arrive with only his large phoenix and portraits of past headmasters for company. All she wanted was a good night's rest before taking on her new life as a somewhat normal teenager the following day.

She was startled when her thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of the Headmaster. "Ah, Morgana, good to see you again! How was your trip?"

Quickly recovering from her surprise, she replied shortly, "Fine, thank you."

Smiling, he settled himself behind his desk and pulled out a bowl of yellow sweets. "Sherbet lemon?" he offered.

"No thank you, Sir. I believe you wanted to see me?" she replied, getting straight to the point.

"Indeed, I did. I see you are looking much better than during our last encounter," he replied, looking bemused.

Not willing to stray down that path again, Morgana tried a different tactic. "Well, if that's all, then perhaps—"

Preventing her from making her escape, the Headmaster interrupted. "Actually, I would prefer if you would stop by the Infirmary and see Madam Pomfrey. I have already informed her and she awaits your arrival."

_Damn!_ _Is my life destined to be full of complications?_ thought Morgana. The last thing she needed was to be prodded and probed by a stranger. After her ordeal with Lucius she was not open to any form of physical contact, and she was certain that a Mediwitch was sure to invade her personal space. She would also rather nobody knew of her situation, and there would be no hiding it from this Madam Pomfrey.

"Really, Sir, but that won't be necessary," she tried vainly.

"I don't believe that was a request, Morgana. Madam Pomfrey will just give you a quick examination, the results of which will stay between the two of you and you can be on your way. I'm certain that you need not worry." Morgana glared at the older wizard but remained silent.

Unfazed, he continued, "As per our agreement, I have compiled a table of jobs for you to do around the castle. However, I must add that it really is unnecessary. Perhaps you have changed your mind?"

Morgana's pride was all she had at the moment, and she would not accept charity. She boldly replied, "I will earn my stay." She stood up and held out her hand for the role of parchment. Eager to leave and get the damned examination over with, she took the parchment without looking at it and began, "If that will be all…"

Sighing, the older wizard replied, "One last thing and you will be free to leave. Sixth-year students have already sat their Ordinary Wizarding Levels, but as you are a new student, my colleagues and I have decided to allow you to attend class with the other sixth-years. However, you will be on probation for a month, in which time your teachers will be able to assess you and decide whether you are capable of remaining as a sixth year student. You will find a number of subjects on your parchment to choose from, as well as those that are compulsory. Please make your choices wisely and if you have any concerns feel free to ask for assistance from any of the teachers. Mr Filch, the Caretaker, is waiting outside my office to escort you to the hospital wing and then to your common room. I've been told the password is _Purus._"

Morgana already had her hand on the door handle.

"Good night, Sir," she replied as she opened the door.

A soft reply of "Good night, Morgana," was all she heard as she made her way down the spiral stairs. As she stepped into the corridor she was met with a straggly-looking man with yellow eyes. He had a deep frown on his face and looked at Morgana disapprovingly.

"Right, you, keep up then- I've better things to do than give tours of the castle!" said the man Morgana assumed to be the Caretaker. He moved surprisingly fast and Morgana had to take long quick strides so as not to be left behind. All the while the irritated Caretaker kept rambling to himself, not caring that Morgana could hear all of his hateful remarks.

"Damn students, always takin' advantage… don't know what Dumbledore's thinkin'…too lenient I always said…think I'm their personal slave... gettin' away with murder they are… and them blasted Marauders…"

Morgana tried to ignore him and instead began to imagine how her examination would go. It did not take long before they were outside the large wooden doors to the Infirmary. The second it took for her to hesitate upon entering the much dreaded Infirmary was all it took for the ill-tempered Caretaker to bark at her, "Well what are yer waitin' for then? Get to it!"

She glared at the Caretaker before pushing the door open and entering the surgically-white cleanliness of the infirmary. The beds were empty and the only sound came from an office to the side where she could hear someone bustling about.

She approached the open door of the office and ventured in a clear level voice, "Madam Pomfrey?" A young witch in an immaculate starched white Mediwitch ensemble made her way from the back of the office where Morgana noticed a room that contained many potion vials.

"Ah, Miss-- Morgana, I presume? Headmaster Dumbledore said a new student would be coming by. If you could just get behind the screen over there--" She gestured to a large screen that blocked a bed just past her office before continuing, "—and pull on the hospital gown, I'll be with you in a minute."

Morgana made her way behind the screen and for a fleeting second she entertained the idea of escaping through the large windows. The fact that she would most likely plummet to a painful death seemed almost welcome to the alternative. She felt like pulling out her hair, and for a moment actually gripped a handful before slowly trying to regain her composure.

Steeling herself against what was inevitably to follow, she donned the gown that had been neatly folded at the foot of the bed, before seating herself on the edge. She had changed just in time as Madam Pomfrey joined her behind the screen.

"Right Morgana, if you'll just lie down, I'll run some diagnostic spells to assess your general health. There's nothing to be worried about and you won't feel a thing," the young Mediwitch said reassuringly.

Morgana, not wanting to be coddled or have Madam Pomfrey believe that she was nervous, because _really,_ she wasn't, quickly piped in, "I'm not worried. I just want to get this over with."

Madam Pomfrey smiled kindly at Morgana before waving her wand over her torso. Trying not to worry, Morgana forced herself to think back to the evening's Sorting Ceremony.

Morgana held her breath as the hat finally announced, "…GRYFFINDOR!"

As the name rang through the Hall, she knew that if she had still been living at home, were the news of her being Sorted amongst the blood traitorous house of Gryffindor to reach the delicate ears of her parents, she would most certainly have been disowned. It was a good thing that minor detail had already been dealt with. Nonetheless, Morgana was relieved that she would not have to be in the former house of that idiot, Lucius Malfoy.

It would have sickened her to be in the same House as her parents and their _associates_. Replacing the Hat upon its stool, she made her way towards the red emblazoned table, her future housemates applauding in jubilation for its newest member.

She tried to avoid looking in his direction, but the boy named Black was banging on the table and the moment her gaze strayed towards him, he once again winked at her before sticking his fingers in his mouth to whistle loudly. She averted her gaze and looked for a seat while the boy Black hastily turned towards his friends.

"So, what do you think, Prongs? Looks like I have a new conquest…"

Beside him, a boy with hazel eyes and glasses regarded his friend closely before saying, "Let me guess, Padfoot, the rest of Hogwarts girls, single or not, not much of a challenge anymore?"

"This, my friend, is fresh blood. I'm not saying I don't appreciate all the attention from my ardent fans, why, just this morning some pretty Hufflepuff was offering to do my Transfiguration homework for the rest of the year if I sat next to her. Sweet girl, can't quite remember her name but anyway, you know how it goes, it tires a guy out after a while."

"So, how long are we talking about this time? One hour? A day?" came the avid reply from his best friend.

"You know, you really should have more respect for them. They're not just here for your entertainment," came a third, level voice.

"Oh come on Moony, live a little! You sound like something from Witch Weekly's Hex a Wizard column. Now if you'd just take my advice you could hook up with that nice-looking little Ravenclaw Prefect that always happens to be with you on duty --"

"—or in the library…" broke in a fourth voice.

"—or next to you at Quidditch matches, and that's even when we play against her House!" finished James Potter.

A red-faced Remus Lupin spluttered, "You guys--I—Sirius-- you read Witch Weekly's _Hex a Wizard _column!"

Unabashed, Sirius replied, "Of course I do. You have to know your prey in order to win them over. So, as I was saying, given the odd circumstances of our House's newest member, I think I deserve at least a week to suss out the target." Rubbing his hands together gleefully he continued, "Now, the interesting part: stakes!"

"Knowing your reputation with the ladies, I don't think the odds are in our favour, and I'm not about to throw away Galleons," replied James.

"Come on guys, we have to make this interesting!" whined Sirius.

"Fine, fine! Just don't use that tone, you sound like your mum," replied James to a horror-stricken Sirius. Ignoring his look of disgust, James continued, "Let's see, five Galleons if you get her, and ten for me if you don't."

"Wait, why do you get more?" replied Sirius.

"Like I said, the odds are already in your favour. besides, who can resist our charming ol' Paddy?"

"Cheers, mate! Fine, it's a deal," replied Sirius happily, not noticing James' look of accomplishment. Sirius faced the other two and continued, "Right, then what about you two?"

"Sorry Sirius, but I'd rather not be involved—"

Disregarding Remus, Sirius broke in with, "Right, from Moony, a weeks worth of homework." Remus looked scandalised at the very idea before Sirius confidently continued, "or a week on my best behaviour, no pranks, sneaking past curfew, skipping classes or—"

"Or doing anything to Snape," Remus said seriously.

"No pranking Snape?" was the almost painful reply from Sirius. Frowning at Remus' nod, Sirius replied reluctantly, "Deal."

Finally, turning towards the last Marauder, Sirius said, "Ah, and Wormtail." The fourth member of the group looked nervously at Sirius, before listening to him continue. "Let's see… since you seem to scare all the girls away, you can have that _magazine_ of mine you're always drooling over."

Wormtail turned a dark shade of red before spluttering, "I-I-don't-what—"

"Relax, Wormtail," interrupted Sirius, "your secret's safe with us. And if, or rather when, I am triumphant, let's see, no beans for the rest of the year, or cabbage for that matter. At night, the smell…" he let the sentence hang, all three of the Marauders wearing a grimace.

Peter Pettigrew hastily dropped his gaze to the table, and pushed away his plate which still held the remaining half of his dinner.

Sneaking a quick gaze at the newest member of Gryffindor, Sirius couldn't help keep the smug grin off his face as he said to the small group, "Let the games begin…"

Morgana took the closest available seat which, thankfully, also happened to be furthest from Black and his rowdy group of friends. The only downside was that she was seated amongst a number of twittering First Years, all of whom were still in awe over the Sorting Ceremony.

Remembering the Bloody Baron's promise to keep her a seat, Morgana cast a glance over to the Slytherin table and noted that the ghost looked particularly scandalised, which was somewhat terrifying and caused the few students close to him to edge away. Her gaze connected once again with that pair of obsidian eyes. Its owner fleetingly looked at her before breaking eye contact and looking down at the table with a scowl.

"Of course, it had to be bloody Gryffindor," he sneered to himself.

"What was that Snape?" said a boy to his left.

"Nothing. Mind your own business," he snarled in response.

"What's gotten your knickers in a knot then? Oh wait, I heard about Black and you on the train. Seems the filthy traitor still hasn't outgrown his little thing for you. He still calling you by your pet name then? What was it again… oh yeah, Snivel—"

"Shut it, Avery! Black and his gang are a bunch of cowards. All that Gryffindor bravery, a pile of dung! And if you don't stop that snickering, you'll be the first to sample some of my more _interesting_ spells I've been working on this summer," he growled menacingly.

His partner immediately lost his amused look and wisely avoided trying to make conversation for the remainder of the evening.

Snape furtively glanced back to where the new girl, Morgana, had seated herself. She, like the rest of the students, had begun to eat as the food magically appeared. There was something about her… but then his gaze drifted further along the table to where one fiery redhead sat. She was chatting amiably to her friends between mouthfuls. He looked back to his own plate which was still empty. It was foolish to believe that any Gryffindor girl would be any different from _her_. If he had any sense at all, he would avoid girls like a swarm of Doxies No, it was definitely not a thought worth dwelling on. Fools that wore their hearts on their sleeves were self-made targets. Scowling once more for good measure, he began to fill his plate before dessert began.

Morgana ate heartily; while Milly's food was nothing to be scoffed at, it did not compare to the spread before her. Soon, dessert appeared and after a helping of chocolate blancmange with mint cream, she was ready for bed.

She had managed to avoid turning in Black's direction, as she knew he had been trying to get her attention the entire evening. It was a relief when Dumbledore finally rose to address the school once more. "Now that we are all sated, it is off to the wonderful land of dreams, where anything is possible. Almost like magic…"

The rest of the Headmaster's good night speech was drowned out as Professor McGonagall appeared at her shoulder. "Morgana, the Headmaster would like a word with you before you head for your dormitory. I am to lead you to his office where he will join you momentarily. If you would follow me," she said in her Scottish brogue.

_Lovely_, thought Morgana, as she followed the older witch. _Just what I need._ Sighing, Morgana instead tried to remember the routes they were taking. Eventually, they reached a stone gargoyle and Morgana heard her Head of House murmur to the statue, "Strawberry puff."

The gargoyle shifted to reveal a spiral staircase that ascended. "Go on up into the office. Professor Dumbledore should be there shortly." Morgana nodded and took her first step onto the staircase, which started to move, when she heard Professor McGonagall say, "And welcome to Gryffindor, Morgana."

It may have been a trick of the light, but Morgana was sure she saw the older witch smile briefly before she lost sight of her Head of House and was met with a wooden door.

Morgana watched as a deep crease began to form between the eyes of the Mediwitch. The older witch had just run the diagnostic spells, and Morgana knew that there was no way she could hide the truth from her. As if on cue, Madam Pomfrey began, "Morgana, while your general health is satisfactory, it seems that you have sustained a number of serious injuries recently, which is a great cause of concern."

The young Mediwitch was staring intently at Morgana, clearly seeking some explanation. There was no way that Morgana was going to get into details with the other witch so she simply said, "I got into a fight."

Clearly not fooled, the Mediwitch replied, "Morgana, some of your injuries were life threatening and- I have to ask--" she faltered before continuing in a gentle tone, "--were you assaulted? Morgana, were you…raped?"

Inhaling sharply, Morgana closed her eyes tightly to fight off the tears that threatened to spill before quietly saying, "I'd rather not talk about it."

Feeling her heart clench, Madam Pomfrey replied, "Morgana, this is serious. Whoever did this to you--" but Morgana did not give her a chance to continue.

Sitting up quickly, she gripped the Mediwitch's wrist almost painfully before forcefully saying, "No! There's nothing to be done. What's happened has happened and that's all there is to it."

"Morgana, do your parents know?"

"I have no family," stated Morgana in a dead tone. She continued, "And no one is to know. No one. Promise me you won't tell anyone."

"Morgana, this cannot be ignored, perhaps Dumbledore--"

"**Not** Dumbledore! Please, no one can know! It's my business. You have no right to tell anyone!"

Sighing, Madam Pomfrey gently stroked Morgana's hand before saying, "Alright, Morgana. However, you do still require medical treatment and as your Mediwitch," she said more sternly, "I'm keeping you here overnight." Seeing that Morgana had opened her mouth to argue, she added, "It's non-negotiable."

Pursing her lips and crossing her arms with a huff, Morgana lay back on the bed. "I suggest you get comfortable. You have a number of bones that have not healed properly. I will have to rework the points of fracture and reset the bones. Also, while it does not seem as though there's anything to worry about, I think we should rather err on the side of caution; so I'll need to administer an emergency contraceptive potion."

Morgana's face contorted to one of horror. The thought that she could be pregnant had not even crossed her mind. With all that she had been faced with recently, this was one _surprise_ she'd rather not have to deal with.

Patting her hand in a show of comfort, the Mediwitch said, "Like I said, Morgana, there's nothing to worry about. Try and relax while I get your potions. I'll be back to start in a few minutes."

Walking around the screens, Madam Pomfrey entered her office with a sigh. There was already so much going wrong in the Wizarding world; young people like Morgana were supposed to enjoy their lives, sheltered and protected from harm. If they were robbed of their innocence now, then what kind of life awaited them in the real world?

Stepping into her potions stores, she began looking for potions she would need. She found the contraceptive potion and made her way back into her office where she poured a measure into a goblet; the potion needed to air for five minutes before being consumed. Setting the goblet onto a tray she turned back to find the rest of the potions.

Her back to the door, Madam Pomfrey did not see the figure that arrived behind her. Hearing a knock on her offices door, she answered automatically, "Morgana, you should not be out of bed."

"Excuse me. Madam Pomfrey," came a familiar voice.

Turning around with a warm smile she amended, "Lily, my dear, good to see you. How are you?"

"Very well and you ma'am?" came the polite response.

"Good, thank you. So what can I do for you?"

"Actually, it's for Mary, she's got her usual cramps and she hoped you had something for her?"

"Yes, yes, poor girl, it's the same every month. Wait just a moment and I'll get the right potion," said the Mediwitch kindly before heading back into the potion storage.

_So, the new girl, Morgana, is in the __Infirmary… that explains why she wasn't in the Common Room. I wonder what's wrong with her, thought _Lily. Spying the goblet on the table, she allowed her curiosity to get the better of her. Gazing in at the contents, she saw the vivid red colour and the convex meniscus of the potion…and knew exactly what it was… from theory of course. If the new girl was taking it, that could only mean one thing…

"Ah, here you go." The Mediwitch emerged with a vial in her hand but failed to notice Lily's prying gaze as the girl, instead of noticeably jumping away, had covered her tracks by taking a step towards the Mediwitch as if to retrieve the potion.

"Mary knows the routine; she must drink the entire vial and if she still has cramps tomorrow she can come see me."

Accepting the small vial, Lily replied with a grateful smile, "Thank you, Madam Pomfrey. I'll be sure to tell her that."

Lily hurried back to Gryffindor Tower. Mary MacDonald was one of her closest friends and she knew the girl had been dying to know about their new roommate, who had apparently already gone missing.

"Purus," she said to the portrait of the Fat Lady. She was barely through the hole when she was accosted by a large figure. "Hey, Red, there you are-"

"Don't. Call. Me. That. !" she replied tersely, trying to side step the infamous Marauder.

"Right, so anyway, I've been waiting ages and there's no sign of her. She definitely didn't come back to the Common Room, but since you're a prefect and teacher's pet—"

"I am not a teacher's pet!" she snapped.

The Marauder however, carried on without hearing her, "—I was hoping you might know something?"

Surprised to see the odd look on his normally mischievous face, Lily replied in a neutral tone, "I have no idea what or whom you are talking about." Nose in the air, she made to leave when she felt a strong but gentle grasp on her forearm.

"Come on Evans, you know, that new girl, Morgana."

Through narrowed eyes, she regarded the boy before her, who, to his credit was trying to project an image of utter innocence. And failing dismally at it. "What exactly do you want with her?"

Peevishly, he replied, "You know, to welcome her… to Hogwarts and Gryffindor."

Having witnesses some of his more _creative_ ways of dealing with other students, she replied cynically, "Yes, I'm sure."

"Evans!" he whined before continuing, "Please, you must know something?"

_Whoa. He said __**please**__. I suppose there really is a first time for everything._ Sighing, she relented and said, "She's in the Infirmary. No, I don't know why, and no, you most definitely are not sneaking out to find out."

It was as though she had read his mind. "C'mon, Red, just a few minutes, you know, to make her feel at home, being the new girl and everything."

A peeved redhead replied, "Don't call me Red! And if I find out you so much as stepped a foot in the direction of the Infirmary I will deduct House Points… and give you detention! Don't think I won't come up and check in your room. If I find that you're missing, I'll go straight to Professor McGonagall!"

"But- but- you're in Gryffindor!" he spluttered in horror.

"All the more reason to keep you in check, Black. Now, do you promise you won't—"

"Yes, yes! I won't go," he grumbled, shooting her a disgusted look and walking away. "Don't know what Potter's thinking… doesn't know what he's in for… bossy little red-head…" Lily watched a very disgruntled Marauder drag himself towards the fireplace before making her way to the sixth-year girl's dormitory.

A worn couch stood before a crackling fire, occupied by two smaller second-year students. Paying no notice, Black slumped onto the couch and squashed himself between the two boys who, a moment before, had been engrossed in an animated discussion over the new opening in the Gobstones club.

After spying his best friend with the girl he had been chasing for the past few years, James Potter rushed to the couch and squashed himself next to Sirius, effectively burying the two younger boys in the overstuffed cushioning. "I saw you and Lils talking a second ago. What did she say? She mention me? Is she ready to go out with me? "He fired question after question, unable to contain his excitement.

Accustomed to the frenzied state his friend would get into on sighting a certain redhead, Sirius Black sighed before replying, "Relax, Prongsie, she's as crazy about you as the day you met."

Overjoyed, the messy-haired boy replied, "Really? Finally! After all this time—wait," he broke off as he remembered something. "Lils wasn't that happy with me the first time we met. Granted, she didn't know she was in love with me but still…"

Unable to allow his friend to continue in his disillusioned state, Sirius sighed once more before saying, "No, Prongs, she didn't mention you." Seeing the slight fall of James' face he added reassuringly, "But that's no reason for you to give up, I know she'll come around."

With a new sense of resolve, a cheery James replied, "Fear not, Paddy, this Marauder is as relentless as Snivellus is at avoiding shampoo." When his joke did not receive the appreciative response he had been expecting, he regarded his friend more closely; Snape-bashing was one of Sirius' favourite pastimes.

"What's up Padfoot? You look serious." When, once again, their most famed joke went unnoticed, James truly became worried. That joke had never ceased to break a laugh, no matter how corny it was.

The two second-years, who were being suffocated by now, struggled out from the fold of the seat and clambered away.

"Lily appears to be a problem; she's jeopardising the mission, and I'm afraid she'll have to be dealt with," came the serious reply.

"Now, now Sirius, there are limits, and no one messes with Prongs' Lily. No need to get drastic just because she thwarted your little hunting expedition."

"That's a bit rich coming from you, the way you stalk Evans. Really James, it's sad."

"I do not _stalk_ Lily." After a moment of thought he said, "Okay, well maybe just a little. But that's different; Lily and I were made for each other, she just doesn't realise it yet. By the way, where is that new girl? She's in Gryffindor right?"

"Yeah, Evans said she's in the infirmary, wonder why though…I was about to go for a visit when _Miss Perfect—" _

"Oi! That's the future Mrs. Potter you're talking about—"

"--told me she'd throw me in detention! Talk about looking after your housemates."

"As if the great untouchable Sirius Black is ever without a plan to ensnare the fairer sex!"

"Of course! Which girl can resist the irresistible charms and outrageously good looks of the most famous Black?" he said pompously, sending James a dazzling smile.

"Sorry mate, but there's only one girl I ever notice," his best friend replied dreamily.

"Besides, I don't need to worry. I saw the way she was checking me out, and she wants me," replied Sirius with an equally dazed look.

Stifling a chortle, James replied, "Yes, I'm sure she does."

Madam Pomfrey watched as Lily left with the vial in her hands. "She really is a delightful young lady," commented the Mediwitch to herself. Sighing, she placed the potions on a tray before carefully making her way to the portioned bed. Morgana was lying beneath the covers with a frown on her face. "Right, Morgana, I won't lie and say that this won't be unpleasant, but it is for the best."

Morgana reached for the goblet of potion that she was being offered. "You'll have to drink the entire potion. Every last drop."

"Yes, I get it," she replied despondently. Morgana grimaced as she swallowed the first potion; its red colour belied its foul taste. Once all of the potions were a churning mix in her stomach, the Mediwitch began the torturous task of resetting Morgana's bones. To say that the night would be unpleasant was indeed an understatement.

While the sun was merrily streaming in through the Infirmary windows indicating a pleasant day, it was ignored by the witch who had just awoken and was now rushing about in a foul mood. The re-setting had been painful and uncomfortable. While her hand and ribs now felt as good as new, she did not. Sleep had eluded her for most of the night as the potions had left her feeling nauseous. When she finally did manage to succumb to sleep, it was not a refreshing one. She awoke feeling groggy and in need of a few more hours rest. To make matters worse, however, she had almost overslept and much to her annoyance the Mediwitch had told her simply that a day in bed would do her well.

Complimented with a pounding headache, Morgana had steadily grown irritable as she rushed about trying to get ready for the morning's first class, Ancient Runes. Her school bag, the same cloth one she had used for her trip in Diagon Alley, had been left at her bedside along with her school robe hanging from a hook on the wall.

Hastily getting dressed, she grabbed her bag and rushed out desperately trying to remember the direction to the classroom that the Mediwitch had given her. There was no time for breakfast, so she sprinted down the near empty corridors, the nervous tug in her stomach telling her that she was going to be late. Hoping she had reached the right room, she pulled open the door to a class that had already begun.

A level voice called out, "Tardiness is unacceptable Miss—"

"Morgana," she provided, her face burning.

"The new student?" he asked before continuing, not waiting for a response, "Well, be that as it may, five points from Gryffindor should serve you and your house well to ensure that you are on time for class. Take a seat." There was a collective groan from her fellow housemates as well as a few snickers from the Slytherins. She sunk into the nearest seat, her eyes glued to the desk in front of her. She had just lost Gryffindor their first set of points and her house mates were shooting her annoyed looks that she avoided by keeping her head bent low. This also meant that she missed the dark gaze that was boring into the back of her head from the corner of the class.

"Don't worry, it happens to everyone. Besides, it's your first day and trust me, we'll have lost so many points by the end of the day that no one will remember," came the reassuring words from her left where a boy a round face and a kind smile sat. He continued in low tones, saying, "I'm Frank Longbottom. Welcome to Gryffindor."

Having been ostracized from most people her age, Morgana had not had the chance to interact freely with others or make friends, so she replied uncertainly, "Yes, thank you."

The class went fairly well, until the teacher began asking questions. Morgana had never possessed but a rudimentary grasp of Ancient Runes, as her parents had made it clear that looking at useless symbols had no merit in her future. Their only concern was equipping her with as much knowledge and physical practice with magic, and anything else did not matter. Choosing her subjects had been tricky enough: Charms, Transfiguration and Defence Against the Dark Arts would be simple considering those were areas her tutors had focused on. Then there was Potions; but how hard could it be to make a potion following a recipe? It was just like in the kitchen, not that she had ever cooked anything, but she had seen the house-elves use the many cookbooks to prepare her mothers favourite dishes. If a house-elf could do it, it should be easy enough for her too. And of course she had seen her mother tell her garden-elf dozens of times how to maintain the estate grounds, prune her roses and even the Snap-Dragons. It was a job even her mother could do, so Herbology was an obvious choice. Finally, because Ancient Runes was the only other subject she had ever encountered, she had made it her last choice. What did she know about caring for magical creatures or reading patterns in the stars? Everyone knew Divination was a farce for the gullible and she could just hear the arrogance in her father's voice as he snorted, "History! Who cares about the past when we're already working on a better future?"

"Right, now, a common mistake from last-year's exam: who can tell me what the difference between _ehwaz_ and _eiwaz,_ is?" Only a few hands were raised, one of which belonged to a redhead in front of her. Morgana, however, was vainly trying to keep her head lowered in a bid to go unnoticed. "Ah yes, how about you, Morgana?" The Runes professor was looking at her expectantly.

Embarrassed, Morgana replied softly, "I don't know."

"What was that? Do speak up," prodded the Professor.

"I don't know," she repeated louder.

"You don't know. That is an O.W.L. question. You will notice that I make no exceptions for anyone in this class. Everyone here has earned their place based on merit and yours will not be given because you are the new student. Perhaps you should rethink your subject choice; I hear Muggle Studies has ample space." A handful of students sniggered but thankfully, the Longbottom boy was not one of them, shooting Morgana a wan smile.

The teacher continued on to say, "If I remember correctly, you received an Outstanding on the exam, didn't you, Lily?" Not waiting for whoever Lily was to answer, he said, "Perhaps you could take pity on your housemate and tutor her before I am forced to kick her out."

"Of course, Sir," came the reply from the redhead in front of Morgana, who had flushed a deep shade of crimson. For the remainder of the lesson she kept her head down and avoided making eye-contact with anyone, least of all the obnoxious Runes professor. When the lesson finally ended, she practically ran out, not wanting to hang around any longer than necessary, ignoring the voices of Frank Longbottom and that Lily girl. Managing to find an empty classroom, she slipped in quietly and waited a few minutes before checking her timetable for her next class.

Herbology, Greenhouse Eight. _That must be outside_, she thought reasonably. Taking a deep breath, she left the classroom and joined the students straggling between classes. She gradually made her way towards the large, open doors of the castle and spied groups of students making their way towards the large glass greenhouses in the distance. At a steady pace, she made for the same area as everyone else, trying to ignore the various curious looks directed her way. Clutching her bag tightly and looking ahead resolutely, she strode past a small group of boys huddled to the side talking in hushed tones.

"Right, so here's our game plan—"

"Wait just a minute," broke in an anxious voice. "What do you mean by _our_ game plan? This was your idea and if you'll remember I wanted nothing to do with it."

"Moony, Moony, Moony. Now what kind of Marauder would you be if you didn't lend a hand occasionally," came the casual reply of Sirius Black.

"All I'm saying is that this, like so many of your other plans, is doomed to end badly."

"Now, now Moony, give our guy some credit; this **is** Sirius we're talking about. If anyone can woo a girl, it's him," replied James Potter convincingly.

With a grin, Sirius said, "Thank you, Prongsie. Now, as I was saying, before I can resume the conquest of my lovely new target, I need some details. This is where you come in Moony." Ignoring the worried look on his friends face, he went on, saying, "Being the nice guy that you are and seeing as how we're one Marauder short with Pete doing Divination, you're going to partner with her and try to sniff out any information."

"Why me? James is better at this sort of thing, and he could—"

"Because we both know that James is too busy eyeing Evans to be of much help here; he'd be too distracted."

With a solemn nod, James agreed, "It's true."

"You're really going to make me do, this aren't you?" sighed Remus with an air of defeat.

Clapping both boys on the back, Sirius said cheerily, "This is it then, boys, let the games begin!"

Finding a workbench for herself, Morgana laid her bag in the space besides her, hoping she would not have any company. Waiting for the class to begin, she watched as people paired up and soon felt a tap on her shoulder. "Excuse me." Turning to face the voice, she met the gaze of a boy with worn robes and congenial smile which belied the tired look on his face. On his chest was a Prefects badge which gleamed proudly. It took a moment for her to place him as the Prefect on the train that had rushed past her.

"Yes?" she ventured expectantly.

"Would you mind if I joined you? Everywhere else is practically full," came the polite reply as he gestured to place besides her. Looking around, most spaces were occupied or in the process of being so. More disturbing was the fact that she recognised a number of the students from her earlier disastrous Runes class.

With a sigh, she conceded, and replied, "Sure, go ahead."

"Thanks. I'm Remus Lupin, by the way."

Seeing his expectant look, she offered, "Morgana." Gazing past her, he could see the other two Marauders a workbench away gesturing for him to continue.

"Nice to meet you, Morgana…?"

Morgana quirked an eyebrow at him as he trailed off before replying, "Just Morgana."

Clearing his throat, Remus began once more, "So, Morgana…you're new…um…so where were you studying before? Beauxbatons?"

Regarding him shrewdly, she replied levelly, "I had tutors."

Looking uneasy, Remus pressed on to say, "Tutors, oh, that's interesting. So…uh…why did you decide to join Hogwarts?"

With narrowed eyes, Morgana replied. "I think we should we get ready; it looks like the class is about to begin." She had anticipated that there would be questions, but really, didn't people know how to mind their own business? Hoping to stem any further conversation, she resolutely turned to face the plump witch with dirt-covered robes who had thankfully just entered the greenhouse carrying a pair of shears.

The class progressed without any more conversation involving her personal life, however, she fared as well in Herbology as she had in Ancient Runes. When she clipped the wrong stem on a Banshee Vine for the twelfth time and it let out an ear-piercing wail, it was to her immense annoyance that she heard Professor Sprout say, "My dear, perhaps it would be best if you sought help from someone who could help you until you become more familiar with the plants. Lily, dear, would you mind?"

Morgana groaned inwardly as the same redhead from earlier, who was hanging onto every word said, "Yes, of course, Professor."

Shoving her wand into her robe (apparently, trying to stun the damned weeds only intensified their screams), she wiped off the tiny beads of sweat from her forehead and tried to disentangle the flailing branches from her hair, trying hard not to just walk out of the class. Things were supposed to get better at Hogwarts, not worse. So far her entire stay had been nothing but a big fiasco. She was sure that if she was just given some time she would be fine. Under the instruction of her tutors she had quickly learnt a great deal. Not that she had any choice, but she was still by no means a thick student.

When the lesson finally came to a close, Morgana could not have been more relieved. It was lunch, and if her stomach's judgement was anything to go by, she was starving. She tried to avoid the know-it-all redhead, but this time she was not so fortunate.

"Morgana, um…hey! Hi, I'm Lily Evans, we're in the same House and actually share the same dormitory…" she left the sentence hanging in the hope of Morgana offering an explanation for her absence the previous night, but there was no way that Morgana was going to oblige her with details the redhead had no business knowing.

"Yes, I suppose so," she replied simply, waiting for Lily to continue. People were streaming past her on their way to lunch and Morgana watched on in envy.

With a steady smile Lily continued, "Yes, well, I'm also Gryffindor prefect, so if you need anything or if you want to discuss some sort of study plan, or anything else really, I'm here. Oh, and I don't mind coming up with a study timetable that could suit both of—"

"Yes, I'll keep that in mind," cut in Morgana, as the redhead was already flipping through her daily planner. This girl had the audacity to assume that she needed her help! Well she didn't. She needed no one's help, or pity. Turning on her heel, Morgana walked away and blended with the crowd, leaving an open-mouthed Lily gawking in her stead.

_The nerve of some people! And I was just trying __to be nice_, thought Lily as she stormed off towards the Great Hall. If that was the new girl's attitude, then she was not going to bother.

Morgana entered the Hall and sat at the end of the table closest to the doors. The Hall was quickly filling up and she knew she couldn't avoid everyone forever, but that didn't mean she couldn't try. She tried to eat as fast as possible, but soon she felt someone sit beside her. While she would have preferred to ignore that person, they apparently had other ideas.

"No need to look any further, I'm right here," came a haughty voice directed at her.

"Excuse me?" she said turning to look, only to find the boy Black, who had winked at her during the Sorting Ceremony. He was leaning on the table, his hair falling slightly into his eyes and he was grinning a perfect smile at her. Grinning…like an idiot.

"I mean, a girl like you wouldn't be complete without a guy like me. So here I am," he replied with a smirk.

"Right, well I have to go," she said as she stood to leave.

"C'mon, I'm doing you a favour really."

With her bag strung over her shoulder she replied, "Thanks, but I think I'm fine as is."

Turning to leave, she 'accidentally' dropped her goblet of rhubarb juice on his lap, only to hear him give a yelp and exclaim, "Aack! That's cold!"

Having watched the scene from a few seats down the table, James, unable to contain his laughter approached his friend and laid a hand on his shoulder to say, "I can't seem to hear the sound of any wedding bells just yet."

Drying the large wet spot on his robes a slightly miffed Sirius replied, "Worry about your own wedding bells! I've got this one in the bag!"

With a laugh, James replied, "Didn't seem like it to me. I thought you were off to a rather _wet_ start!"

"Oh shut up!"

"Idiot!" mumbled Morgana under her breath as she left the Great Hall. Checking her timetable, she had a free period before Defence against the Dark Arts at the end of the day. However, according to her duties roster, she was to help Madam Hooch with the first-year flying lessons. She was required to set out the brooms before the lesson began and then replace them when it was over. _Not too much of an effort,_ she thought, considering it was the first duty she had been given. Making her way outside, she found it to be a warm, bright day with a few fluffy clouds scattered across the brilliant blue sky. The lake gleamed as the sun's golden rays made the ripples caused by the giant squid to appear scattered with diamonds. _If only I hadn't left my paint set behind_, she thought in frustration. Today was a perfect day to be out capturing the world as it basked in the merry sunlight. Sighing, she consulted her list again, which was now giving instructions to get to the broom shed. Morgana was thankful that the list appeared to be enchanted to provide assistance where necessary, which suited her since she still had trouble being around people, much less having to converse with them and ask for help. Sitting on a seat carved into the wall of the castle, she waited for the teacher to arrive. Students milled about as they enjoyed the brief reprieve from lessons, thankfully taking no notice of Morgana.

A quarter of an hour later, most students began making their way indoors. Morgana spotted an older witch with short grey hair and yellow hawk-like eyes approaching. "Ah, you must be Morgana. I'm Madam Hooch. Dumbledore said you'd be assisting with the first-years' flying lesson; How good are you on a broom?"

Having never considered that she may be required to actually mount a broom, Morgana replied nervously, "I've never actually been on a broom."

Madam Hooch's eyes seemed to double in size at her response. "That's absurd! Why ever not?" she asked.

"My parents did not see it fit for a girl to _waste time_ on a broom," replied Morgana, irritated at her parents.

"That's ludicrous! Having played for the Holyhead Harpies, I can vouch that it was most certainly not a waste of time. Not to worry, I think I can fix that. We'll end class ten minutes early, and you can have your first go at it. How does that sound?"

Morgana couldn't help the sudden thrill she felt at the idea of flying. She had seen images of people flying in books and had always yearned to experience it for herself. This time there was nothing holding her back and it was an opportunity she was not going to miss. "Yes, I'd like that very much."

With a smile, the older witch replied, "Granted, the school's brooms aren't the best, but it'll do."

With her spirits high, Morgana gathered enough brooms and set them in rows. That done, she moved back to her seat as the students arrived. A number of students looked excited, while others looked at the brooms with avid curiosity, and a few showed white-faced nervousness.

She observed the class in interest and enviously heard the joyous yells as some managed to soar off the ground. She had hardly given flying a second thought, as her parents had forbidden her, knowing that any pleas would be in vain. The end of the class couldn't have come faster and soon she was alone with Madam Hooch and one of the few brooms in better condition. "Right, Morgana, I know you were watching, so just take a breath and give it a go."

With a nod, Morgana did exactly that before throwing her leg over the broom and mounting it. With a look of encouragement from the older witch, she gripped the handle firmly with both hands before kicking off from the ground. And then… the world no longer existed. There was nothing holding her back. For the first time in years, she felt exhilarated. Throwing all inhibitions to the wind, she let out an equally joyous laugh. If she need ever describe the feel of freedom, then this was it. The absolute control, the cool, crisp taste on her lips, the whisper of the wind against her cheek telling her she was finally free.

While Morgana dreaded having to go back to a class full of curious people, her amazing afternoon, however short her time in the air had been, had put her into a relatively good mood. The prospect of being cooped up indoors did not seem as daunting. Filing into the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom with the students, Morgana found a seat towards the front of the room. A moment later, and the lingering pleasure from her flight evaporated at the sound of an unfortunately familiar voice. "Ah, sweet of you, keeping a place for me." The large form of Sirius Black promptly sat himself beside her, and Morgana couldn't help the groan that escaped her lips.

"Don't get too excited over me now," replied Sirius with a smirk.

Deciding that she would not let him get to her, she avoided looking at him and resolutely ignored his comment. Turning around, Sirius gave a double thumbs up to James Potter, who winked in response. Seated besides him was Lily Evans, who rolled her eyes at the two boys. Unperturbed by her silent demeanour, Sirius began. "So Morgana, that's a nice name. I was thinking—"

What exactly he was thinking was left hanging when the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher entered the class and said, "Good afternoon, class. As you know, I am Professor Backly, and I will be taking you for Defence Against the Dark Arts for the rest of the year. As I can see, you are already all in pairs but for today, I'd like you in same gender pairs, just to avoid any incidents. You, at the back," he said, directed to a dark, lone figure seated in the corner on the opposite side of the room. With the entire class' attention focused on him, Severus Snape replied with a scowl, "Yes?"

"Where is your partner? According —"

"Probably poisoned him," came the just audible voice besides Morgana. The class sniggered and Snape scowled even deeper shooting a glare at Black.

The Defence Against the Dark Arts professor continued over Black's comment, saying, "—to the class list there should be an even number of students."

Returning his attention to the new teacher, Snape briefly thought, _Like the rest of _us,_ he thinks this class is a waste, _before replying evenly, "Mulciber is…sick."

The professor gave him a calculating look. "On the first day of school? I'll be looking in to that."

When it was apparent that no reply was forthcoming, he said, "You may work in threes for today. The rest of you, move."

The class began to shuffle around and Morgana felt relief at having a change in partner. Much to her annoyance, Sirius' voice rang out. "Don't miss me too much, babe," he said. Turning to glare at him, she saw him wink at her as he joined Potter behind her. Her relief was, however, short-lived as her new partner sat down. Gazing at the vivid red hair, Morgana groaned inwardly, trying to keep a grimace off her face.

"Professor McGonagall asked that I assist you with any of your classes that you might have difficulties with. So, as I was saying earlier, perhaps it would be easier to set up some sort of study timetable that could suit us both." Her business-like tone did nothing to convince Morgana that she wanted or needed anyone's help. The fact that her new Head of House seemed to think she was inept did little to improve her mood.

"Like I said, I'm fine. You really shouldn't trouble yourself with help that's not wanted." Turning her face towards the professor, who looked about to begin the lesson, she stemmed any further discussion. Pursing her lips, Lily did the same.

"Today, you will be practicing Non-verbal spells. While I don't expect great results, since this is your first lesson, your current pairs should ensure that you are somewhat evenly matched. Now, Non-verbal spells are most effective…"

Morgana lost interest soon after. Non-verbal spells were nothing new to her. After what felt like hours, she heard the teacher direct, "…be facing your partner with your wands raised, and using only your thoughts you will attempt to disarm or block your partner. I want it clear that no other spells are to be used. Now, let's see what you can do. I will be coming around to assist."

Clearing away her things, Morgana noticed that the know-it-all red head had been taking lengthy notes and was just rolling up a long piece of parchment. Finally facing each other, wands raised, Lily said, "Right, so he said to keep your mind clear, envision your spell working and feel your magic flow." She began moving her wand around in her hand, seemingly getting a feel for it. "Feel the magic…feel the magic…" she muttered to herself.

Tired of watching her opponent while others around them were laughing at failed attempts or trying to cheat, Morgana said, "Just give it a go, will you?"

With a resolute look, the redhead met her gaze and said, "Fine, be ready to block." Their wands raised, each witch wore a steely look aimed at the other. Seeing the slight crease of her eyebrow, Morgana did not have to work out that the redhead was about to cast the spell. A second later and she felt the slightest brush as her Shield Charm dissipated the impending spell.

"You're not doing it right. You're not concentrating hard enough, and you need to channel the magic through you faster." She had heard those words often enough and it was good to finally have them directed at someone else.

With her eyes blazing, Lily crossed her arms in a huff before retorting, "Well, if you're such an expert then why don't you show how it's done!"

Amused at having gotten under Miss Perfect's skin, Morgana replied with a smirk, "I was just trying to…help."

With a sniff, Lily said, "Well don't. Now, are you going to show how it's done or not? Or maybe you don't actually know how."

With narrowed eyes, she answered with, "Fine." Both girls raised their wands once more and adopted a duelling stance. Their eyes bore into each other and a number of thoughts began running through her mind. It was as if all her Hellish moments were replaying themselves in her head. Lucius, her parents, the frustrations of never being able to stop them…The maddening years under their roof… The helpless feeling they always incited in her ... That day at Malfoy Manor… Her father leaving her for dead in the alley… The morning's disastrous classes… Suddenly it was too much. Now she had a target, and even more, a wand tightly enclosed in her hand.

"Well?" prodded Lily impatiently.

What came next, she had no intention of doing. Her torrents of emotions caused the simple Expelliarmus Spell she was thinking to expel from her wand with an incredible force of magic. The spell shot at such a speed that she couldn't tell when it left her wand and crumbled Lily's much weaker Shield Charm. There was a blast of light as the spell made contact and the redhead was thrown across the classroom and into the side of a desk, her wand spiralling out of her grip.

**A/N: ****Sorry, sorry, sorry for the extremely long wait! One thing led to another and well… yeah that's how it goes. I'm grateful to anyone and everyone still sticking with this story after seeing what a lousy updater I make! Let me know if the chapter is too long or if you prefer it that way. **

**Thanks to ****Perhenwen, Princesa de la Luna, Padme 4000**** and ****Alabaster Princess**** for their reviews in the last chapter, it definitely is a boost. I am still hoping for more! Also a major thanks to my beta, afterglow 745 for polishing up this chapter. **

**~sevylicious**


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